


One Step Sideways

by airgeer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basically Victor wakes up in a world where he skated another season, Gen, M/M, yes this is just a sad sad excuse for two Victors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-06 20:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8769007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airgeer/pseuds/airgeer
Summary: "Waking up in a world where the best possible turn of events was a literal doppelgänger was not exactly what Victor considered a great morning.The other Victor apparently begged to differ.“Amazing!” he said, poking Victor in the shoulder."Just as Victor and Yuuri are about to start the final dash of preparing for the Grand Prix Final, Victor finds himself in a different reality- one where he, rather than coaching Yuuri, is in the middle of skating his retirement season.They don't know how it happened, or how to fix it, but neither Victor has ever let details like that stop him.





	1. Places that Aren't Hasetsu: Most, but Especially This One

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a thing that is happening! It went through a bunch of permutations and degrees of seriousness before we got here, and fair warning, it is a WIP. However, it's a fully plotted WIP that I'm very motivated to write!
> 
> As is my standard in not being able to write fic without someone saying "yes, yes, this is not the worst idea you've ever had", I owe gratitude to narie, who helped me dig this fic from the fires of angst and into actual good times for everyone except the characters.

***

 

When Victor woke up, he was alone.

 

That wasn’t too much of a concern, but he didn’t remember going to bed.

 

Or why he was in a hotel.

 

He rolled over and looked around. Yes, certainly a hotel, in a standard and familiar layout. One bed, one low slung chest of drawers, two nightstands, lamps, industrial blinds firmly closed but daylight peeking through anyway.

 

A closet, a bathroom, a thin door that presumably led to the rest of the suite.

 

The world seemed off-centre, somehow, and not in a hangover way. Victor threw off the blanket and crossed to the window, reeling up the blinds.

 

“Well,” he said to the world at large. “I am certainly not supposed to be here.”

 

The world at large did not respond, and the view from the window remained, stubbornly and unquestionably, Moscow.

 

“Yuuri?” he called, turning on his heel and rushing to the outer door. “Are you here?”

 

“Where else would I be?” That was not Yuuri.

 

Victor swung the door open, and Yurio frowned at him from the floor, legs spread in a butterfly stretch. “I thought you were going to stay in bed all day,” he said. “Why were you speaking English?”

 

 “Uh.” Victor closed the door again.

 

Okay. He was in Moscow. He was in a hotel with the wrong Yuri. Yesterday, he’d been in Hasetsu, with the right Yuuri, going into their final preparation for the Grand Prix Final.

 

He opened the door. Yurio hadn’t moved, but he did look considerably more outraged. “Why am I in Moscow?” he asked bluntly.

 

Well, at least now Yurio looked confused as well. “Did you hit your head? Do the words Rostelecom Cup mean anything to you?”

 

Victor tilted his head to the side, blinked once, twice. “I’m very confused, Yurio.” He closed the door again.

 

Yuuri was not hiding in the bathroom with an explanation when Victor checked, which wasn’t terribly surprising. He wasn’t in the closet, either, but there was a garment bag, one of his own suitcases, and a skate bag.

 

Inside the garment bag, there were two costumes, vaguely familiar. Inside the skate bag, they were his brand in his size.

 

“Yurio?” he called, kneeling in front of the closet. “Am I skating in the Rostelecom Cup?”

 

There was a pause, and then the bedroom door slammed open and Yurio loomed over him. “How much did you drink last night, you idiot? We’re in the middle of the competitive season!”

 

“Hey,” Victor said sharply. Yurio abruptly cut himself off and settled for glaring. “Something’s going on that I don’t understand. I need your help, Yurio.”

 

“That’s obvious!” Yurio snapped. “You’re not _competing_ in the Cup, Victor, you won it! Yesterday!”

 

Victor knew his jaw had dropped unattractively, but he couldn’t help it. Yurio stepped over him into the bedroom itself, carelessly and quickly ransacking the room until he pulled a gold medal from underneath a jacket. He brandished it at Victor wordlessly.

 

He scarcely realized he was moving, standing up from the floor and taking the medal from Yurio’s hand. The cool weight of metal in his hand was usually reassuring, but he’d won a skating competition that he had not only been competing in, but had not even been present for the latter half. He suspected there wasn’t much that would be comforting.

 

“Is this a joke or something?” Yurio asked, drawing Victor’s attention back to him. Yurio stared at him a long moment, and shook his head. “No, you really don’t remember?” He abruptly thrust his hand up towards Victor’s face. “Watch my finger.”

 

Where was Yuuri? Why wasn’t he in Japan?

 

What was going on?

 

Victor jumped when Yurio grabbed his head and pulled him down to his level. “Calm down,” he ordered, running his hands back over Victor’s scalp. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

 

“No,” Victor said, forcing down the panic and closing his eyes. “I don’t think I hit my head, Yurio.”

 

“What else could it be?” Yurio scolded. “You were fine when I left you last night, and now you can’t even remember yesterday!” His voice cracked on the last syllable, and Victor patted him on the shoulder.

 

“It’ll be okay, don’t worry,” he said automatically. “I think… I need to find Yuuri.”

 

He’d been with Yuuri, hadn’t he? They’d been at Fukuoka, and then the rink, and then…

 

Nothing. He’d been at the rink, had been with Yuuri, and then he’d woken up in Moscow and nothing made sense. Had it been a dream? Was he dreaming now?

 

“Yuri?” Yurio repeated, his eyebrows drawing together. “What?”

 

“I was with Yuuri,” Victor said, injecting confidence into his voice. “He’ll know what happened.”

 

Yurio stared up at him blankly, and then realization swept across his face. “Wait, the Japanese Yuuri? What? He didn’t even compete yesterday, why were you with…”

 

“He didn’t compete?” Victor repeated, an icy shock spreading through his stomach.

 

“I’m telling Yakov,” Yurio announced, pushing past Victor into the main room. “Something’s wrong with you.”

 

“Wait,” Victor demanded, grabbing Yurio’s wrist. “Wait.”

 

Yurio didn’t pull his arm free, but he wasn’t cooperating either, his back stiff and alarmed.

 

“Yuuri Katsuki. Why wasn’t he competing?”

 

Yurio didn’t answer right away, but eventually his shoulders dipped in surrender. “Because he wasn’t assigned to Rostelecom. He’s just here because his training partner is.” He eyed Victor up and down. “You really are confused about a lot of things.”

 

Victor closed his eyes again and thought back. Had he shared a room with Yurio last year at Rostelecom? Had he tumbled back into his own past?

 

But no, he would’ve noticed if Yurio was a year younger. He would’ve recognized his costumes, certainly. He checked the medal he was still maintaining a death grip on, and sure enough, it was clearly marked with 2016.

 

Victor let go of Yurio, let go of the medal, and stumbled back to the bed on unsteady legs. The mattress was firm and solid underneath him, but the world was spinning.

 

It was November, 2016. He was still a competitive skater. He’d won the Rostelecom Cup. He was in Moscow. These all had to be facts. The evidence proved it.

 

But then, yesterday it had been November, 2016. He had been a coach. His Yuuri had come fourth at Rostelecom. He had been in Hasetsu. Those were also facts. He had lived it; he had the love to prove it.

 

When he looked up, Yurio was gone. Probably to go find Yakov and tell him that he’d lost his mind.

 

Victor tipped his head forward and buried his face into his hands. How had this happened? What had happened to him? If he was here, where was Yuuri?

 

He stilled at the thought. If something had happened to Victor to tear him away from Yuuri’s side, was Yuuri here in this strange world too? Was he as lost and confused as Victor was?

 

Or had Victor just imagined-

 

No. A flash of Yuuri, picking himself off the ice after a failed jump in practice and beginning his approach again. Yuuri, baring his heart on a beach, in a parking garage, on the ice. Their lips together, the line of their bodies pressed together, a promise to stay with him. Victor would not have thought of that for himself, never in a million years.

 

It was real. He might be crazy, but he had to believe in his memory.

 

A hand pressed at the crown of his head.

 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked hopefully, dropping his hands and looking up.

 

No.

 

He had something in his eye, maybe. He blinked furiously, but the wide, shocked eyes staring down at him didn’t change.

 

“Wow,” said another Victor, his hand still resting on the top of Victor’s head. “I guess I see why you were so upset, Yuri.”

 

Victor stared up at his own face, completely lost for words. The other Victor looked back, letting his hand drop, and Victor could still see the confusion underneath the familiar but defensive enthusiasm.

 

At least he didn’t have to question his memory anymore, if there was another Victor who must still be a competitive skater. Still, waking up in a world where the best possible turn of events was a literal doppelgänger was not exactly what Victor considered a great morning.

 

The other Victor apparently begged to differ.

 

“Amazing!” he said, poking Victor in the shoulder. “You’re just like me! Yuri was too excited in the hallway to be very clear about what was happening. Where did you come from? How did you get here?”

 

“I was at the ice rink, and then I woke up in your bed,” Victor said, tearing his gaze away from the curious sight of his own face to look at Yurio, who was standing in the doorway of the bedroom watching them. “I don’t know what happened.”

 

“Well, you sure scared Yuri,” Victor said. “He came running out into the hallway like someone was chasing him, and then his face when he saw me! I thought he’d drop dead right there!”

 

“Well-”

 

“Did you drop weight this season?” he asked, moving on to squeezing Victor’s bicep. “You seem a little smaller than me.”

 

“I took up coaching,” Victor said, frowning at his other self’s hairline. Was his getting so high as well?

 

“What?!” The other Victor said, and Victor shrugged. A near-genuine smile spread across his face. “You did? That’s amazing! How do you like it?”

 

“Well, it was going very well,” Victor hedged. “I suspect Yuuri will be very upset if I don’t make it home to him.”

 

“Ah, you’re coaching Yuri?” The other Victor said, nodding along. “I considered that, but how did you get him to listen to you? I’ve never had much success, but maybe-”

 

“I’m still right here,” Yurio snapped. The wild look had faded from his eyes a little once the other Victor had taken over the situation, but he still looked pretty stressed.

 

“Ah, sorry, Yuri,” the other Victor tossed over his shoulder. “So, how did you get him to listen?”

 

“I didn’t,” Victor admitted easily. “I’m not coaching Yurio. I’m-”

 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Yurio demanded. “I was willing to let it go when I thought you had a concussion, but now you’re being ridiculous.”

 

“It’s your nickname,” Victor explained brightly. “Yuuri’s sister didn’t want to confuse the two of you, so she gave you a new name. Yurio in my world loves it,” he added as an aside to the other Victor, who nodded sagely.

 

“It’s a good name, Yurio,” he said, smiling, and it was clear that he’d picked up on the game. If they wanted to talk seriously, they needed a little more privacy.

 

“There’s no way that any version of me would like such a stupid name!” Yurio retorted.

 

“Are you calling me a liar, Yurio?” Victor asked, grabbing at his chest in mock despair. “I can’t go on.”

 

The other Victor grabbed him close, and Victor sagged theatrically. “No!” the other Victor cried out. “Yurio, what have you done? Hang in there, Victor!”

 

“The world is turning dark,” Victor whispered. “Please, my other self, call him Yurio…in my memory.”

 

“Of course,” the other Victor said. “Anything for myself.”

 

Yurio slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

 

Victor leaned against himself for a moment longer, waiting for the other Victor to let him back on his feet. It was a strange sensation, to be so close to what was nearly an exact copy. Very, very strange.

 

Judging from the curious way that the other Victor was looking at him, the feeling was mutual.

 

The impasse stretched out over several more seconds, until the other Victor laughed nervously and let him go. “Poor Yuri,” he said.

 

“It’s good for his character,” Victor said, putting a little distance between them. “Anyway, as I said, I’m not coaching Yurio. I moved to Japan to coach Yuuri Katsuki.”

 

“Really?” the other Victor said, shocked and then thoughtful. “I don’t really know him. How did it happen?”

 

“Fate, I think,” Victor said. “But it doesn’t explain how I got here, or how I can get back.”

 

“I did think about coaching,” the other Victor said, clearly only half-listening. “But Yuri needs the experience that Yakov has, and there weren’t exactly other options beating down my door.”

 

“Victor,” and Victor was struck by sudden sympathy with Yakov for the years he’d spent trying to get Victor’s attention. “How could this happen?”

 

“I don’t know,” the other Victor said, frowning. “Sorry, I’m focusing on the wrong things!” he added with a bright grin, and how easy it was to see underneath of it added to how disconcerting this whole situation was.

 

Was Victor so transparent and false as well? Could everyone see through him?

 

But then, Victor was the only person who knew how he’d felt last year, how this other him still seemed to feel this year. It only made sense that he could recognize his own techniques.

 

The other Victor pulled out his phone. “Yuuri Katsuki,” he said, tapping at the screen. I had a bit of an awkward encounter with him at last year’s Grand Prix Final, and haven’t seen him since then. I wanted to apologize at the banquet, but he left early and then didn’t make World’s. Looks like he skated at NHK and Skate Canada this year.”

 

“Oh!” Victor said, relief spreading through him. Of course the Grand Prix assignments were different, with him in the mix.

 

“What are you happy about in that?” the other Victor asked.

 

“In my world we went to Cup of China and Rostelecom,” Victor explained. “When Yurio said that Yuuri was just here to watch, I thought he’d retired.”

 

“Nope,” the other Victor said, still scanning his phone. “He’s actually qualified for the Grand Prix Final again, so I’ll be seeing him soon.”

 

Yuuri had qualified for the GPF. Victor couldn’t help the fond smile as he let that wash over him. Of course he had. Victor had been happy to give him what he needed, but his Yuuri was brave enough to go out on his own and find it even without him.

 

“Victor?” the other Victor said curiously.

 

“I have to see him,” Victor said. “Yurio said he’s here, he is, yes?”

 

“He is, I saw him this morning with Celestino and Phichit Chulanont.”

 

Phichit would have been the rinkmate he was in Moscow to see, then. It made sense that Yuuri would have gone back to Celestino. He was a good coach, with a lot to offer, and Phichit was both a friend and a peer-level skater.

 

Victor wondered what Yuuri’s theme was.

 

The other Victor was staring at him. “What?” Victor asked.

 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “…Just, your face. You care about him.”

 

“Of course,” Victor said, “he’s…”

 

He’s indescribable, Victor realized. There was no way he could explain it. But maybe he could show it.

 

Victor had woken up in a t-shirt and athletic pants. His phone hadn’t made the leap with him, but he knew exactly how to find that original video online. “Here, give me your phone.”

 

Once his other self had seen the video, he’d understand. The only way Victor could see himself choosing another season of joyless competition over the potential Yuuri had offered him was if he hadn’t yet.

 

But then, none of his search terms worked. None of the clickbait articles linking to it were there. As far as the internet was concerned, Yuuri had never skated to Victor’s program.

 

“Oh.” Victor knew that something had to have changed, but it still felt like a kick in the chest. It hurt to consider that maybe, in this world, Yuuri hadn’t been moved enough by his program to make it his own. “I guess that’s the difference,” he said, handing back the phone.

 

“What is?”

 

“I saw a video of Yuuri skating that made me want to be his coach. It looks like it was never posted here. You said he left the Grand Prix banquet early?” That was where it had all started. It must have happened.

 

“Yeah, he was gone within an hour, but you moved to Japan to coach someone you hardly know because of one video?” the other Victor said incredulously. “It must have been something pretty special.”

 

“It was,” Victor said flatly.

 

“Well, I’d like to meet him for real, then!” the other Victor said with unforced enthusiasm. “I don’t have his phone number, obviously, but the hotel isn’t that big. Let’s go find him!”

 

Victor perked up at the prospect, and then dropped as reality sunk in. “I don’t think we both can go looking,” he pointed out. “We’d get noticed for sure, and that would be a huge mess.”

 

“You’re right,” the other Victor agreed. “Well, you wait here, then, and I’ll go find him. I’m the one who’s supposed to be here, after all.”

 

“I guess that makes sense,” Victor conceded, “but I do know Yuuri better. He’s more likely to come with me.”

 

“I’m Victor Nikiforov, and he’s a competitive figure skater. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.”

 

“You don’t know Yuuri,” Victor argued. “He’ll run if you don’t approach him right. It took him forever to warm up to me when I started coaching him.”

 

“Look, you’re Victor, but you’re not me. This guy is Yuuri Katsuki, but he’s not the one you know. He has to be different. How could he even compete if he’s that timid?”

 

“He’s not!” Victor bit back the rest of his automatic defense, not willing to give too much of himself away.

 

The other Victor stared at him, and it seemed like even if his passion for skating was wearing thin, Victor could still be surprised.

 

“Okay,” he said eventually, a strange look on his face. “You go. I’ll find you some shoes so you’re not wandering around the hotel barefoot.”

 

“Victor,” Victor started slowly, pausing at the weight of his own name.

 

“That’s going to get confusing fast,” the other Victor said, pulling a cheerful smile back on. “We’ll have to think of a nickname. Now, do you want a jacket as well?”

 

***


	2. Kidnapping and Other Light Felonies (Actually, the Kidnapping is Enough)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuri go on a Yuuri hunt. Yuri's day gets worse, Yakov's day get worse, and Yuuri's day nosedives into the surreal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for such a positive response! I would have replied to comments already, but I thought that maybe you'd like another chapter quickly instead :) I really appreciated them all!

***

 

Yurio was waiting in the hallway outside the suite when Victor stepped out, zipping up his borrowed jacket.

 

“I was listening,” he said, his semi-permanent frown still set. “Are you really Victor?”

 

“Who else would I be?” Victor asked. “Chris in a clever disguise?”

 

“Nevermind,” Yurio scoffed. When Victor started to walk away from him, he added, “The elevators are the other way.”

 

Victor turned about, and Yurio fell into step behind him. “No one who talks to you is going to believe you’re the real Victor,” Yurio said. “You’re too different.”

 

“You did,” Victor pointed out. “People will see what they expect to see.” They always did.

 

Yurio pouted all the way down the hall and into the elevator, but his curiosity got the better of him. “How are you going to find him, anyway?” he asked. “Just wander around the hotel like an idiot until you see him?”

 

“Of course not, Yurio,” Victor said patiently. “That would be ridiculous. I have a plan.”

 

***

 

By their third lap of the hotel, Yurio was fuming.

 

He’d managed to do it mostly silently for an impressively long time, but after they’d been cheerfully greeted by Emil Nekola a third time, Yurio finally reached his breaking point.

 

“You said you had a plan!” he snapped. “We’re just walking!”

 

“You can go back to the room at any time, Yurio,” Victor suggested.

 

“Don’t be stupid, I can’t leave you alone or we’ll probably end up with three of you.”

 

“That seems unlikely at best,” Victor said.

 

“There’s only supposed to be one of you, and you’re saying that it’s not likely you’ll multiply again?” Yurio challenged, and Victor had to admit that he had him there. “Seriously,” he continued. “Your plan was to ask once at the front desk, and then just give up and walk around when they wouldn’t tell you his room number?”

 

“I thought they’d tell me!” Victor said. “It’s not my fault the clerk doesn’t like figure skating.”

 

Anything else Yurio could find to criticize was cut off by an angry shout from behind.

 

“Victor!”

 

“Yakov!” Victor said cheerfully, turning to face his former (current?) coach. “How are you?”

 

Yakov’s face was like a thundercloud, which answered that question quite well. “You told me not five minutes ago that you had food poisoning and didn’t know where Yuri was, Vitya!”

 

So, Yakov had seen the other Victor, who had lied his best.

 

“Ah, well, I seem to be fine now,” Victor said. “And look, Yurio- uh, Yuri, called me to come and get him, so now everything is okay.”

 

Yakov was still suspicious, but less purple. Victor smiled convincingly, and Yakov relented like he knew he would, switching his attention to Yurio. “And you! I called you several times. Where did you wander off to that Vitya had to retrieve you?”

 

Yurio shrugged.

 

“He was…he was looking for a particular skater!” Victor said, struck by a burst of inspiration. “He wanted to get advice about his step sequences.”

 

“Oh?” Yakov said. “And who’s that?”

 

“Yuuri Katsuki!” Victor said. Yurio squawked in protest, and Victor elbowed him firmly. “But we couldn’t find him.”

 

“No!” Yurio insisted. “There’s nothing that loser could-”

 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Victor scolded, letting a warning come through in his voice. “We all have things we can learn, and you’re right that Yuuri is very good on his feet.”

 

Yakov raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You’re looking for Yuuri Katsuki for help with your step sequences. Is that so, Yuri?”

 

Victor stared down hard at Yurio, who eventually nodded, slowly, like it caused him great pain.

 

“Can you help us?” Victor asked quickly, before Yurio changed his mind.

 

“Maybe, if you tell me why you really want to see him, Vitya. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

 

Victor sighed in defeat. “It’s hard to explain, but I swear it’s important,” he said, as seriously as he could. “Please help us find him.”

 

“This isn’t like you, Vitya,” Yakov said after a tense moment longer. “Promise me I won’t regret this.”

 

“I promise,” Victor said quickly and sincerely. Too much so, if he was honest. Yakov definitely knew that something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t help it. It was Yuuri.

 

Instead of calling him out, Yakov took mercy on him, quickly tapping on his phone and lifting it to his ear. “Celestino,” he said a moment later. “This is a strange request, but some of my skaters would like to meet up with one of yours and can’t find him. No, the other one. Yes. Thank you. Ciao.” He hung up, and fixed a beady-eyed stare on Victor. “They’re headed to the lobby now.”

 

“Thank you!” Victor said quickly, grabbing Yurio by the wrist and pulling him along.

 

“Vitya,” Yakov called.

 

“Yes?” Victor said, stopping abruptly enough that Yurio piled into him with a curse.

 

Yakov sighed and covered his eyes, like he knew it was futile. “Don’t make a scene.”

 

“When have I ever?” Victor asked ebulliently, tugging Yurio after him again.

 

***

 

The lobby was getting a little busier than it had been earlier, with media staking out their spots and the women’s singles competitors starting to head to the rink.

 

Victor had always considered it slightly unfair that the competition wasn’t ever over by the time he’d medaled and been out of it, but not quite enough to ever give pairs skating a try in order to prolong it.

 

Still though, the competition being ongoing but over for him meant that they had some time to figure out what had happened and how to fix it before people would be expecting one and only one Victor Nikiforov to leave Moscow. Not much time, but Victor didn’t intend to stick around, no matter how interesting this reality was.

 

His back straightened automatically when he spotted Yuuri across the room, sandwiched between Celestino and Phichit. Just as he was about to call his name, though, Yurio dug his fingers viciously into the tendons of Victor’s wrist.

 

“What was that for?” Victor asked, wounded.

 

“You were about to shout across a room full of the press, you idiot,” Yurio whispered. “I would call that making a scene.”

 

Victor looked back at Yuuri. His hair was shorter than his Yuuri’s was, and his bearing was different. Confident, but more like the confidence that Victor put on for the world to see rather than the true sense of assurance his Yuuri was growing into.

 

He wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or disappointed that this was so obviously not his Yuuri, but what his mind couldn’t answer, his heart could. He had wanted it to be his Yuuri, despite the odds, and couldn’t ignore the swell of fear from deep within.

 

He really was alone here.

 

“They’re going to leave,” Yurio said. “Do you have any kind of plan here or are you just going to stare at him?”

 

“Yes,” Victor said, shaking off the grief as the task at hand beckoned. This was still Yuuri, even if it wasn’t his Yuuri. Maybe he could help him get home, probably he couldn’t, but the other Victor needed to see what he was missing.

 

He wrapped an arm around Yurio’s shoulder and started steering him through the room, keeping an eye on Yuuri. “We need to get him away from his coach without him noticing. If he knows it’s me who wanted to see Yuuri, he’ll be suspicious. Yurio, I need you to use your innocent face.”

 

“I don’t have an innocent face!” Yurio hissed.

 

“Remember the time you unlaced Georgi’s skates and hid them in Mila’s bag?” Victor asked. Yurio nodded, smirking at the memory. “The face you had when they started shouting at each other, that’s the expression you need. Cute, innocent child, all the way down.”

 

“And then what?”

 

Victor stepped back to let a cameraman through. “Trip and fall, and pretend you hurt yourself a little,” he instructed. Phichit split off to take selfies at the front desk, and Yuuri disappeared behind Celestino. “They’ll all be looking at you, so you just have to keep Celestino’s attention while I grab Yuuri. Then we’ll meet back at the room.” Victor had no intention of taking Yuuri directly back to the room, but Yurio didn’t need to know that.

 

“That’s a terrible plan!”

 

“Probably! Go!” Victor gave Yurio a little push towards Celestino, casually turning to saunter up behind Yuuri.

 

Yurio made up for his lack of enthusiasm by fully committing to the fall, kicking his own foot out from under himself and tumbling to the floor in front of Celestino. “Ow,” he said without inflection.

 

Celestino did reach down to help him up, exactly as expected, but so did several other people, which meant all eyes were on Yurio. Perfect.

 

Victor seized his chance, looping his arm through the crook of Yuuri’s near elbow and tugging gently.

 

Yuuri spun around toward and into him, and Victor held a finger to his own lips, hoping that Yuuri would follow his lead. He had a front row seat to the way Yuuri’s face went from simple shock at being unexpectedly grabbed to several different shades of red and completely dumbstruck as he recognized Victor.

 

“Come with me, Yuuri?” Victor requested sweetly, leaning close to whisper into his ear.

 

He took that squeak that Yuuri made as a positive response, not risking a glance at Celestino and Yurio as he pulled Yuuri’s other hand across their bodies to doubly link them together and headed for the hotel doors.

 

“Are you okay?” he heard Celestino ask as they exited. Yurio’s response was lost as the door swung shut behind them.

 

Success!

 

It was probably selfish, but he wanted to talk to this Yuuri alone. He’d somehow engineered his own comeback, or maybe someone else had helped him. Victor had to know. And he could admit it to himself- it was comforting to be so close to him.

 

Yuuri was not comforted, judging by the tension in his body as Victor led them down the sidewalk. Victor pulled him a little closer, as much for warmth as the late November chill cut through the thin Team Russia jacket he’d borrowed from the other Victor as to ensure that Yuuri wouldn’t bolt.

 

Victor lengthened his strides as they rounded the corner. If Yurio had seen them head for the doors instead of the elevator, he’d be after them as quickly as he could ditch Celestino. Victor knew Yurio. They needed to make some distance.

 

“Mm,” Yuuri began hesitantly.

 

Victor squeezed his hand, and felt him twitch nervously. “Just wait,” he requested. “It’s too cold out here.”

 

Yuuri at least was dressed warmly, with a thick coat, scarf and hat, so Victor didn’t feel too bad about dragging him outside, but he did regret not planning ahead more for himself. He definitely wanted to get inside, and quickly.

 

Victor could feel the strain shaking through Yuuri’s rigid body despite his silence, but resisted the urge to pull him closer and comfort him. Victor might still be an idol to this Yuuri, but he was also a stranger dragging him down a frozen sidewalk.

 

Maybe this had been a bad idea.

 

But then, it was already happening. Yuuri was still coming along with him, after all. He couldn’t be too concerned. He was probably just freaking out because the last time he’d seen him had been a year ago, when he’d been too upset to even speak, and he’d always looked up to Victor.

 

Or maybe Yuuri would’ve reacted this way to any acquaintance grabbing him and pulling him along to an unknown destination, but Victor doubted that.

 

Victor turned them again, hoping he’d remembered this part of Moscow correctly.

 

He had. “There,” he said to Yuuri. “The Metro station. I’m not dressed for the weather, but we can talk in there.”

 

Yuuri nodded, his head brushing against Victor’s shoulder. He stole a glimpse down at him- yes. Definitely total panic.

 

Well, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t have been freaking out even more with Yurio in the mix, to say nothing of another Victor.

 

Russian or not, Victor was cold down to the bone by the time they’d ducked inside the entrance doors, standing off to the far side of the stairs down. This time of morning, station traffic was ebbing low, so as long as they kept their voices down it would be fairly private. Out of the wind it was much warmer, but Victor held on to Yuuri anyway. It wasn’t that warm.

 

He pulled Yuuri to lean up against the wall beside him and waited his panic out. Eventually, the sharp line of Yuuri’s body softened a little, and his breathing evened out.

 

“Sorry about this,” Victor said. “I just needed to talk to you without you running away.”

 

That was the wrong way to phrase it, if the way Yuuri suddenly gasped in horrified realization was any indication. “I’m so sorry,” he babbled. “I was ashamed of my performance, I was so rude to you back then, I’m sorry.”

 

Oh, they really hadn’t seen each other since before last year’s GPF banquet. Victor spared a sigh for his other self had missed out on. “No, no, that isn’t what I meant,” Victor said, patting Yuuri’s forearm. “Anyway, I was the one who didn’t recognize you with your glasses on. It was all my fault.”

 

Yuuri deflated. “Then what did you mean?” he asked cautiously.

 

“Just that I needed to talk to you, and I know you’re very shy,” Victor said, squeezing his hand. “That’s all. Yuuri, can you tell me about yourself?”

 

“What?”

 

“You, Yuuri,” Victor repeated. “What’s your theme this year?”

 

“What?” Yuuri repeated, this time with more strength behind it. It was Victor’s turn to be surprised when Yuuri disentangled himself from Victor’s arms and spun away to face him properly. “You- Did you drag me all the way out here just to ask me what my theme is? You had me thinking you were going to break my knee caps!” His voice got higher and more outraged as he went, culminating in him clapping one hand over his mouth.

 

“I would never!” Victor said, outraged by the thought of it. Though, yes, okay, Yuuri impulsively going along with him and then regretting it as he got further from his only friends in a foreign country with a rival skater pulling him along was actually a pretty fair guess at what could have happened to him. “Yuuri, you need to be more careful,” he scolded. “I know you think highly of me, but just imagine, I could have been crazy!”

 

Yuuri still had his hand over his mouth, but his eyes said it all. “I’m sorry,” Victor said, anything to get that look of incredulity off his face. “I’ve just realized how this must have seemed to you, and I swear it wasn’t my intent at all. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

 

He nodded, neck held stiffly, and opened the station door. Victor stepped out beside him, crossing his arms for warmth. They walked in silence for a minute, and then Yuuri said, “My theme is longing.”

 

When Victor looked at Yuuri, he was staring down at the ground, like he thought he could sink into it.

 

“Longing?” Victor asked.

 

“Yes. The melancholy feeling of being alone and wishing you weren’t, and of chasing after something but falling short. That’s my theme this year.”

 

“That’s a very sad theme, Yuuri,” Victor said, digging his fingernails into his arms to prevent them from reaching out. “That’s the way you feel?”

 

“Kind of.” Yuuri paused, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep going. “There’s more, but it’s private.”

 

“That’s fine,” Victor said in a guilty rush. This Yuuri had enough on his mind without Victor pouring his troubles on him. “I shouldn’t have bothered you like this, anyway. It’s impossible to overstate how strange a day I’ve been having, but I shouldn’t have been so selfish.”

 

“Selfish?” Yuuri asked, perking up curiously. “You don’t even know me, how was this selfish?”

 

That stung, even if it was true. Victor knew Yuuri, yes, but this Yuuri wasn’t the one that he’d changed and been changed by. “It just was. It’s difficult to explain…well, it’s actually simple to explain, but it’s totally unbelievable.”

 

“Okay,” Yuuri said slowly. “Just so you know, you’re freaking me out again.”

 

Victor huffed a laugh. “Okay, then, how about this.” This was a terrible idea. Victor knew it, but a theme of longing instead of love was breaking his heart. He needed to offer Yuuri something. “My free skate program from last year, do you remember it?”

 

Yuuri just nodded, but Victor could see the faintest hint of a flinch. He was already flushed from the cold, or Victor was sure he’d be blushing. It was confirmation that Yuuri had skated his program after all, or at least enough that Victor was willing to gamble on it.

 

“Stay by my side, and never leave. The program was meant to be the plea of someone lonely, calling out to their love.” Victor refused to consider how much better he could skate that program now, impossibly far from the love of his life, who was also somehow standing right in front of him.

 

Yuuri nodded again.

 

“I skated it beautifully,” Victor said plainly. “It won me the Grand Prix, World’s, everything.”

 

Yuuri nodded agreement, and Victor put out a hand to stop him walking.

 

“You skated it better.”

 

Yuuri didn’t nod. Victor did it instead, willing Yuuri not to run and watching as his face went through a brilliant gamut of emotions.

 

“How?” Yuuri said eventually, his face open... and betrayed? Why?

 

Victor winced. “That’s the part you won’t believe.”

 

“Tell me!” Yuuri demanded, his eyes flashing, and Victor found himself taking a step backwards. “Is this some kind of joke?”

 

“No, it’s serious. Yuuri, look, please give me the benefit of the doubt here for a minute. In April, a video of you skating my program was posted online by your friend Yuuko’s daughters, and it went viral. I found the inspiration I’d been missing in you, and I moved to Japan to coach you.” Yuuri’s face darkened, and Victor had never felt more like an idiot as he rushed to say, “This morning, I woke up in this world instead of my own, where that never happened, and now I’m trying to figure out how to get home.”

 

His Yuuri would have believed him, but there was a world of experiences between the two of them. As he watched Yuuri look at him with distrust, Victor felt the gulf between them tear even wider.

 

“How cruel of you,” Yuuri said after a moment, his face perfectly straight and still, but Victor could see the maelstrom underneath. And then he turned, and walked away, and Victor’s heart tried to leap out of his chest to follow.

 

Victor was pulled after him, his gut twisting and Yuuri’s anger tearing at him. “Yuuri, please don’t-”

 

Yuuri turned on him, faster than Victor expected. “It’s not even like I’m really competition for you,” he gasped out, and Victor was horrified to see tears standing in his eyes. “I don’t know how you found out about… _that_ , but you didn’t need to do this.”

 

He stared at Victor a moment longer before adding, “Please stay away from me.”

 

Defeated, all Victor could do was watch his back as he ran away.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up (not tomorrow, probably Saturday): In varying ways, the Shit Hits the Fan. The other Victor gets to leave his hotel room. Yuuri's day actually improves!


	3. That Disguise Isn’t Going to Fool Anyone, Victor, Come On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In varying ways, the Shit Hits the Fan. The other Victor gets to leave his hotel room. Yuuri's day actually improves!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Saturday (it still is for me!), but I didn't factor in (1) Episode 10 and the backstory changes, and (2) Life imitating art as I accidentally Yuuri'd it up at a party last night. Apparently, among other things, I got wine drunk and offered to give a friend's mother grandchildren, and tried to convince two other people that they would make beautiful children and should get on it.
> 
> ...Anyway, I've surfaced from my hangover and varied humilations, and the important thing about this note is that this fic has been edited to be Episode 10 compliant. In the universe that Victor was pulled from, Yuuri did get super lit up and invite him to be his coach. It's three minor edits across the first two chapters, so rereading is not that important. In the universe the fic is set in, Yuuri doesn't get drunk in Sochi, and the video doesn't get posted.

***

 

Victor gave himself about half a minute after his other self had left him alone in the hotel suite to consider all the ways that someone who looked exactly like world famous skater Victor Nikiforov but without his memories could cause some kind of media incident at a hotel occupied mainly by a skating competition.

 

It was a long list, but he’d deal with it when it happened. From the look in his eyes, he wouldn’t have been willing to wait for Victor to come back with Yuuri Katsuki, and at least this way Victor knew that there wouldn’t be photographic proof that there were two Victors wandering around.

 

Yuri had wandered off as well, so Victor was left alone with his thoughts. He’d had enough of contemplating himself already that morning, and refocused his thoughts on Yuuri Katsuki.

 

He really didn’t know anything about the guy he’d apparently retired to coach in another world, but what he did know was how to fix that.

 

Victor flopped back on the bed and picked up his phone.

 

Yuuri Katsuki, age 23. Japan’s top male skater, and two time qualifier for the Grand Prix final, despite a massive slump midway through last season.

 

 _And he’s cute_ , a little voice whispered in his head. _Do you think-_

 

Victor shrugged of the thought and skimmed through the page curiously. He trained in Detroit under Celestino Cialdini, who Victor mostly knew as a fun drinking partner, and with a training partner, Phichit Chulanont, who Victor only knew through his truly excellent selfie game. He could respect someone who knew how to market himself.

 

“So, this other Victor sees a video of you, and moves to Japan to coach,” Victor said to Yuuri Katsuki’s profile photo. “What did he see?”

 

There was only one way to answer that. “What’s on YouTube?”

 

Victor tipped himself back against the bed pillows, propped his phone against his knees, and settled in to watch.

 

By the time he surfaced again, Victor had to admit two things:

  1. Yuuri Katsuki was technically good. Very good. Victor could see the potential for greatness.
  2. He was also inconsistent, in frustrating ways and for unclear reasons.



 

Victor found himself rewatching his NHK performance like he was ticking off boxes. Excellent spins, beautiful footwork, a lovely performance, and then a hard lean and a hand down on his quad Sal.

 

“You made that in Canada, Yuuri,” he said to the tiny figure onscreen. “You could be so much better.”

 

Technical issues aside, there was a heartfelt and compelling honesty about him that drew Victor in. “Longing, huh?” He watched Yuuri go into his final step sequence and finish.

 

Then he went back to the start to watch again.

 

Victor was jerked back to reality by a knock at the door- had the other Victor found Yuuri already? Victor stashed his phone in his pocket and crossed the suite, fixing his hair as he went.

 

When he opened the door though, it was Yakov, and Victor tried not to let the disappointment show. “Is Mila in here?” he asked, leaning around him to look.

 

“No, I haven’t seen her today,” Victor said honestly.

 

“Is Yuri, then?” Yakov asked. “She was supposed to meet me twenty minutes ago.”

 

“Ah, I don’t know where Yuri’s gone, actually,” Victor said, leaning out into the hallway. After he’d stormed out of the bedroom, he’d clearly chosen to make himself scarce.

 

“Are you all right? You don’t look well.” Yakov was peering at him now, and Victor felt edgy and raw in his skin, like he’d been caught out at something.

 

“Just, uh, something I ate didn’t agree with me,” he lied. “Yuri took off in a huff.”

 

“Of course he did,” Yakov said, frowning. “Take care of yourself, Vitya.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Victor agreed, nodding. He closed the door again and slid down it to sit on the ground.

 

He’d lost track of time, and the other Victor had been gone nearly an hour. It shouldn’t have taken so much time, just to find out where one person was in a hotel full of people who knew him.

 

He waited a few minutes longer, and then impatience overtook him. He had to know what was happening. Maybe Yuri could help.

 

Yuri picked up his phone after just a few rings, mumbling, “Yeah?”

 

“Where did you take off to, Yuri?” Victor asked.

 

“…Okay,” Yuri said, maybe to someone else?

 

“Victor?” someone new said, deeper-voiced than Yuri, older, with an American accent.

 

“Hi!” Victor said politely. “Who’s this, please?”

 

“Celestino Cialdini,” the man said, and oh, that both explained where Yuri had gone and why it had taken so long. “Where are you off to with my student?”

 

“Uh-” Victor started, and then cut himself off to quickly think. So Yuri had been with the other Victor, and now they were with Yuuri Katsuki’s coach. And then, what? The other Victor had just swept him away?

 

“Victor?” Celestino prompted. He didn’t sound too concerned, and went on to confirm it. “Yuuri’s phone is usually off, or I’d just call him. If you just wanted to spend some time with the competition, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to send your protégé after me.”

 

“Ah, sorry about that.” He might not know what he was apologizing for, but with Yuri involved it was a safe bet that he needed to.

 

“Tell Yuuri to turn his phone on, at least,” Celestino said.

 

“Will do!” Victor agreed brightly, injecting confidence and positivity into his voice. “See you later!”

 

He hung up before Celestino could start asking questions he couldn’t answer, and let his head fall back against the door with a thud.

 

Yuri called him back a minute later. “The other you grabbed Katsuki and ran off,” he informed Victor.

 

“Where, though?” Victor asked.

 

“Out of the hotel, somewhere. I didn’t see, but Chulanont did.”

 

Victor winced.

 

“He was really weird and intense about finding Katsuki,” Yuri continued. “I’m not going after them, but someone should.”

 

“Yeah,” Victor said, unable to ignore the sinking sensation in his stomach any longer. “I’ll go look for them. You’re sure you didn’t see where they went?”

 

“Yakov just came into the lobby,” Yuri hissed, suddenly urgent. “He’s headed for Katsuki’s coach.”

 

“Where are you, anyway?” Victor asked.

 

“In the lobby, duh. Look, this guy is you, right? Even if he is even more of an idiot. Where would you have gone?”

 

“Where would I take the guy I’d snatched from the lobby of a hotel after I’d just been transported to an alternate reality?” Victor rephrased. “I have no idea.”

 

“Yuri,” Yakov said firmly in the background of the call, loud enough that it carried through the microphone clearly.

 

“Shit,” Yuri said, and then he hung up.

 

Okay.

 

The other him had wanted to see Yuuri Katsuki, who he claimed to have coached. That made sense, if they’d become friends on top of their professional relationship, which Victor thought had to be the case. Victor didn’t have many people that he was close to, and it had been strange to see the deep affection that his other self clearly held. His face when they’d been discussing Yuuri had been soft and caring, concerned, and then harsh and defensive when Victor had tested his barriers with a weak insult.

 

He was certain that his other self’s feelings were genuine, which was both confusing in the light of him grabbing Yuuri and running, and stirred an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy deep in his chest. He’d felt lonely sometimes, sure, and recently it had been harder and harder to find his spark of inspiration, but-

 

He needed to go find them.

 

***

 

With his hair tucked up under a knit cap, a long coat, sunglasses, and a leopard print bandana over his lower face, Victor was fairly sure he would be able to make it out of the hotel unrecognized.

 

He was going to sneak out the back door anyway, though.

 

When it turned out there was no back door, Victor reluctantly headed for the lobby, slouching and moving with the flow of people.

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he moved toward the exit doors. Yuri again, or at least someone calling from his phone.

 

“Hello!” he said, keeping his voice low.

 

“I’ve been looking all over for that bandana, you shithead,” Yuri said, just as quietly.

 

Victor looked around casually until he spotted Yuri, leaning against the wall a couple metres away from Yakov, who was holding what looked like a very awkward conversation with Celestino as Phichit Chulanont texted at a furious rate with a massive grin on his face.

 

“It’s for a good cause,” Victor said, adjusting it carefully. Yuri slowly raised his hand in response, middle finger extended.

 

“I don’t even know why I’m helping you anymore.”

 

“I got you those cat skate guards?” Victor suggested, stepping behind a taller man as Yakov glanced over.

 

“That’s true,” Yuri said, relenting. “If you want this to stay a secret, you’d better find them and get them back here fast. Chulanont is posting minute by minute updates on twitter, and your fans are looking for you.”

 

“Well, better mine than yours,” Victor said philosophically. “Thanks for your help, Yuri.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket and stepped out into the street with a sigh of relief. He was out.

 

…And that had been the easy part.

 

He was outside, but he had no idea where to start.

 

Oh, right. The internet.

 

If people were freaking out about him wandering the streets, surely someone would have posted something that he could use to find them by now.

 

Victor picked a direction and started walking, hoping that they hadn’t just jumped into a cab. He thumbed through his twitter mentions as he went, searching through the swarm of posts for clues and scanning the street around him by turns.

 

Ten minutes later, he had nothing, except a dizzying urge to curse his own name. He turned a corner and finally got lucky, clicking into the first photo he’d seen that didn’t come straight from Phichit’s feed.

 

It was a blurry mess, but it did seem to be him. Victor peered at it, trying to make out background details, and promptly reminded himself why he’d been looking up periodically by colliding hard with someone going the other way.

 

Falling was a natural instinct to a figure skater, and Victor wrapped his arms around the other person, absorbing their momentum as he turned to land on his side.

 

The man who’d run into him squawked in dismay as they went down, but followed Victor’s lead. In the end, they made it to the ground without anything but pride injured, at least in Victor’s case.

 

“Pardon me!” Victor apologized. “Are you hurt?”

 

“Sorry!” the other man apologized simultaneously, though in English, and Victor froze as Yuuri Katsuki fixed his glasses and sat up from his embrace.

 

Now that Victor had noticed his face, it was impossible to not continue to do so. Photos and videos had nothing on the real thing, but the real thing was also flushed with cold and teary-eyed.

 

Victor felt a harsh twinge of concern. They hadn’t hit the ground that hard, had they?

 

“Where are you hurt?” he asked, pushing into a crouch and sliding his sunglasses up onto his head.

 

“I’m noooo-” Yuuri switched midword into a babbled and panicky line of Japanese as soon as they made eye contact, scooting away from Victor until he hit the side of the building beside them and stayed there, staring wide-eyed at Victor with darting glances back the way he had come.

 

Oh, right. Yuuri had presumably just been with Victor, or so he’d thought, and running right into another one would be kind of a shock.

 

“So, uh,” he stalled out. “Hi?”

 

Yuuri just stared, looking Victor up and down.

 

“How did you…” he eventually said. “Weren’t you just…” he pointed back the other way, and switched just as quickly from shock to a scowl, saying with surprising firmness, “I asked you to leave me alone.”

 

“I don’t really know what to say to that,” Victor admitted, holding out his hand. “Here.”

 

At the very least, they should probably get off the ground. Yuuri didn’t react, and Victor wondered exactly what must be running through his head. He picked Yuuri up by the elbows, standing him on his feet.

 

Yuuri started mumbling to himself in Japanese, and Victor cringed. “Have I broken you?” he asked.

 

He snapped back to reality at that, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused as he glared at Victor. “How did you get here?” he demanded. “Why are you dressed differently? Why are you following me?!”

 

“That’s complicated, assuming you mean in relation to the last Victor you saw,” Victor said. “I mean, he was supposed to bring you to me so we could meet and talk about this, not run off with you and…” Wait.

 

If Yuuri hadn’t been hurt in the fall, then- “He made you cry?” Victor said indignantly. “He said that he knew how to keep you from freaking out, what a liar! You were even running away from him!”

 

“I don’t understand,” Yuuri said, and now he was starting to sound like a lost little boy. “What’s going on here? Why are you doing this?”

 

“Did he not even tell you what happened?” Victor asked. “Why would he drag you out all this way?”

 

“You told me that you were from another world where you were my coach,” Yuuri said accusingly, his eyes sparking. “Isn’t this a ridiculous length to go to just to psyche me out?”

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said, because that was a misconception that he couldn’t allow, “how long have you been a competitive skater? If I was the kind of jerk who went around trying to ruin my competition’s chances, don’t you think you would’ve heard about it? Do you really think that sounds like me?”

 

Victor held Yuuri’s gaze steadily, watching the offended look fade as he considered that. “No,” he said, eventually, softly. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

 

“Whatever he said that got you so upset, I’m sorry,” Victor said. “But it was really important to…us to see you.”

 

“Us?” Yuuri asked, dropping his gaze to the ground.

 

“Yeah,” Victor said. “Me, Victor Nikiforov, and the guy who slightly kidnapped you, Victor Nikiforov from another universe.” He snapped his fingers as he remembered. “Also, your coach wants you to turn your phone on.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes were huge again, searching Victor’s face and scarcely breathing. “You’re not- you’re actually serious,” he marveled.

 

“I can prove it,” Victor said, holding a hand out to Yuuri. “Care for a walk?”

 

***

 

From the way Yuuri kept glancing over at him as they walked, Victor suspected he still wasn’t completely convinced that Victor wasn’t playing some sort of game.

 

That was fine. It was a hard story to believe, even after Victor had appealed to his own reputation to persuade him. So long as he kept following, finding the other Victor would be all the proof he needed.

 

“So, has anything like this ever happened to you?” he asked, and winced at how asinine he sounded.

 

“Uh, no,” Yuuri said, lacing his hands together in front of him. “Nothing like this.”

 

“Me neither,” Victor said. “He was just here when I got back to the hotel this morning.”

 

“Two Victors,” Yuuri said, a hint of wonder in his voice.

 

“Yeah. It’s amazing, or at least it was until he disappeared.” Victor shrugged. “He’s not really me, I guess. He is, but he’s not.”

 

“I believe you,” Yuuri said unexpectedly.

 

“You haven’t even seen us together yet,” Victor said incredulously. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen him, and he’s me!”

 

“But you’re right,” Yuuri said stubbornly. “He’s very different from you.” He blushed deeply, and looked away.

 

“Not that different, I think,” Victor disagreed.

 

“He said he was my coach.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So it must be very different there,” Yuuri said. “I can’t imagine it.”

 

“I can,” Victor said easily. “I’ve already announced I’m retiring after this year, after all. If I’d had an offer to go coach someone, I might have done it this year.”

 

Yuuri squeaked a little at that, and Victor smiled. _Fine,_ he admitted to himself. _He is cute_.

 

“I was watching your performance film earlier,” he said impulsively. “I liked them.”

 

“You were watching me?” Yuuri said, his voice barely above an awed whisper.

 

“It seemed like the thing to do,” he said. “Coaching you seems to be the biggest difference between our world and his. Can you blame me for being curious?”

 

“Of- of course not!”

 

“Where did you say you left him?” Victor asked, looking around yet another intersection without a sign of the other Victor. “I’m starting to get concerned.”

 

“That’s a pretty good disguise, I almost didn’t recognize you!”

 

Victor spun around, and there, in all his red-cheeked, red-eyed, red-jacketed glory, his other self stood, holding a hand up in greeting.

 

“Hi!” he said, waving. “Can we go back? I’m getting cold.”

 

Victor tipped his sunglasses back down over his face in a panic.

 

“Where have you been?” he demanded, his tone softened by the relief in his gut. “Why’d you leave like that?”

 

“Sorry,” the other Victor said. “I guess I had some things to prove to myself. But it looks like you found Yuuri, and he isn’t mad anymore?”

 

Yuuri was looking between the two of them, and Victor nearly felt bad at the expression on his face. Apparently accepting that Victor was probably telling the truth and being confronted with two copies of one person were two different prospects.

 

“You’re really-” he stammered to the other Victor. “You’re really my coach? Where you come from?”

 

“Of course,” the other Victor said, a soft smile spreading across his face. “And you’re my Yuuri.”

 

The raw truth of that hit him like an electric shock, rushing through from his heart to his extremities. Of course. _Of course._

 

He looked at his other self, who seemed to have realized exactly what he’d said. “I mean, well, you’re…yes,” the other Victor said, looking away from them both.

 

“Oh,” Victor said, feeling as divorced from his own mouth as if someone else was using it.

 

Yuuri stood there, open mouthed and surprised, but he didn’t run away. Instead his gaze slowly slid from the other Victor, who was determinedly looking away, until he had caught Victor’s gaze. He held it, brown eyes soft and wondering, until Victor was the one who looked away.

 

“We should go back,” he said, pretending his heart wasn’t pounding and his mind wasn’t racing.

 

This wasn’t his, he reminded himself. Whatever the other Victor had in his world, it didn’t mean that this Yuuri was the same person. It didn’t mean that they could have what the other Victor did. It hadn’t happened that way for them.

 

It didn’t mean anything.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Victor and Victor and Yuuri make Plans. Genius level, dimensional hopping, these will definitely work Plans.


	4. Oh Yes, Yurio was Definitely Wrong About You Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Victor and Yuuri make Plans. Genius level, dimensional hopping, these will definitely work Plans.

***

 

Victor really, truly, had hoped that whatever had happened would reverse itself, that he would suddenly open his eyes and be back at Ice Castle Hasetsu watching Yuuri polish his free program.

 

Every time he blinked and the Yuuri walking in front of him was still the wrong one, that hope got a little further away.

 

The return walk to the hotel was awkward and quiet, but Victor couldn’t find it in himself to regret saying what he had. He recognized the yearning that he’d seen in the other Victor’s face, even if he was trying to hide it behind a smile, and Victor wanted to make the way it pulled at his own heart disappear.

 

Yuuri was quiet too, too shy to ask the questions he had to have, Victor guessed. Or maybe still a little angry about how Victor had approached him. Compared to his Yuuri of months ago, this one was a little more ready to show his inner core of steel, but even so, Victor was surprised that a Yuuri who barely knew him had accepted the truth of the situation.

 

When he said as much, Yuuri made a quiet noise of agreement, unable or unwilling to look Victor in the eye. “Well, there are two of you. Why would you lie about the other me when that’s not even the weirdest part?”

 

“But there must be something you want to know,” Victor pressed, and was met by Yuuri shaking his head far too quickly to be genuine.

 

“Nope!” he said quickly, deflecting Victor’s attention away. “Oh, look, the hotel, we should split up now.”

 

“You two go ahead,” the other Victor said. “We’ll meet up again in my room. Right, Victor?” The other Victor dragged his bandana down over his chin to grin insincerely at him, and Victor matched him.

 

“Of course,” he said. “Come on, Yuuri.” He reached for Yuuri’s hand on instinct, but remembered why he shouldn’t just in time to stick his hand into his pocket instead.

 

Yuuri didn’t notice, but his other self was looking at him with a strange expression. “See you soon,” was all the other Victor said, though, pulling the bandana back up over his nose.

 

Victor filed that look away to consider later, speeding up until he and Yuuri were leaving the other Victor behind.

 

“Will there be people waiting for us?” he asked, trying for a casual tone. He really didn’t want to have to explain this to anyone else.

 

“Mm, no, I texted Phichit-kun that he and Coach Celestino should go on without me,” Yuuri said. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have stuck around so long just to wait for me.”

 

When they entered the hotel, Victor half-expected to see Yakov waiting to shout at him, but he remembered that today was the women’s free skate, and of course he’d be with Mila. They had an unobstructed line to the elevators, and Victor led Yuuri toward them purposefully.

 

“Sooo,” Victor said as they waited for the elevator. “You train in Detroit?”

 

Yuuri nodded, but didn’t volunteer any more information. Which was supremely unhelpful, since Victor was grasping at any straw he could for a reason why he’d been transported across realities.

 

“Phichit’s nice,” he tried. “You didn’t train with him this year, in my world, but you’re still friends.”

 

“He’s a good friend,” Yuuri agreed.

 

Victor followed him into the elevator, trying to figure out if this version of Yuuri was genuinely this reticent, or if he was stonewalling him. Maybe he truly was still angry.

 

“Sorry about before,” he said. “I shouldn’t have approached you like that.”

 

“You’re right about that,” Yuuri said. Oh, he was still angry _and_ he was stonewalling him.

 

“I’ll try to remember from now on,” Victor offered. “My Yuuri doesn’t like it when people get too close either.”

 

“I think that Yuuri is very different from me,” Yuuri said, his mouth in a flat line.

 

“No, not that I can tell,” Victor said, trying for a reassuring tone. “You remind me of the way my Yuuri was when I first started coaching him. I’d almost forgotten how many times he pushed me away.”

 

“Do I?” Yuuri asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“I would never lie to you,” Victor said earnestly. “You might not be my Yuuri, but I still feel you’re important to me. I’m truly sorry about earlier.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri said, and his face softened.

 

The elevator doors opened, and Victor led the way down the hallway. “I’d like to know more about you,” he said, encouraged. “My Yuuri had a long road back after last season, but I got to walk it with him. Yours must have been very different.”

 

Yuuri nodded, but didn’t say anything as they walked until he said, all in a rush, “You’re not at all like the Victor I expected.”

 

“My road’s been different, too.”

 

Yuuri nodded, like that made sense, and then he was actually volunteering information. “Phichit-kun really helped me earlier this year. I’d left Detroit and gone home, and he’s the one that convinced me to come back.”

 

Victor nodded, meeting Yuuri’s fond smile with one of his own. “It’s only to be expected that he’d want you back, since you both benefit from having a training partner.” He looked a little more closely at Yuuri. There was something about his smile that made him wonder. “Were there personal reasons too?”

 

“Well, he’s my friend,” Yuuri said, maybe not quite understanding what Victor was hinting at.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said gently, “I’m asking, is he more than a friend?” It didn’t seem too farfetched, now that he was thinking about it.

 

“What?”

 

“All those late nights training together,” Victor elaborated. “You’ve come all the way to Moscow to support him.”

 

Yuuri understood what he was saying now, if the flush spreading across his face and the way he’d stopped dead in the middle of the hallway was any indication.

 

“I understand,” Victor said. “You’re both young, good-looking, I remember what it’s like.” He stepped a little closer to Yuuri’s personal space, and smiled, waiting for the answer.

 

“I-I think you have the wrong idea about me,” Yuuri said breathlessly. But he wasn’t stepping back.

 

“Do I?” Victor took mercy on him and moved back.

 

He might want to get home, but if he could help this world’s Victor and Yuuri find their way to each other in the meantime, he had to try. As it was, they were mostly just making him sad.

 

“The Yuuri in your world must be so different,” Yuuri said tentatively. “I’m not some sort of playboy who toys with people’s hearts.”

 

“Of course you’re not,” Victor said, trying for a reassuring tone despite screaming internally. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“You are very strange, Victor,” Yuuri said after a moment. “But I hope I can help you get home.”

 

Victor wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Yuuri’s earnest expression was familiar and slightly off at once, and the sight of it caught in his throat. He settled for a simple nod, after what was definitely too long a pause, and turned to the hotel room door, patting his pockets for the key card.

 

The door opened before he found it, Yurio pulling it open and staring at him. “You’re an asshole,” he said bluntly, which was fair enough, really.

 

“Hi Yurio,” Victor said. “Did you miss me?”

 

“Tch,” he said, sneering at the two of them in turn and disappearing into his bedroom.

 

“Have you met Yurio?” Victor chirped, ignoring the way his door slammed shut.

 

“Yes,” Yuuri said in an unfriendly way. “Last year, at the Grand Prix Final.”

 

“Oh, right!” Victor said, remembering suddenly. “The dance battle.”

 

“What?” Yuuri said, blinking. “No?”

 

“Oh right,” Victor said, less enthusiastically. “You left the banquet early here.”

 

“A dance battle?”

 

“Yes, it was amazing! Yurio didn’t know what hit him.” Victor refrained from mentioning any of the the other events of that night. Yuuri looked like he was having enough trouble processing just that.

 

“He had a dance battle with Yuri Plisetsky, and you still think I’m like him?” he said wonderingly.

 

“I’m sure you’ve got hidden depths, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri was saved from further denials by the other Victor letting himself into the room, pulling off his disguise as he went. “So, now we’ve found Yuuri,” he said. “But I don’t think we’re any closer to getting you home.”

 

Yurio resurfaced at the sound of the other Victor’s voice, sauntering out of his room. “You’re all still here?” he said, sounding bored, but he gave lie to his tone by settling in against a wall to listen.

 

“Hopefully not too much longer, for me,” Victor said. “I’ve been here for hours. Yuuri must be worried by now.”

 

 

(A reality away and several hours earlier, Yuuri fell out of a jump when Victor vanished in between his second and third revolutions.

 

“Victor?” he called out to the empty arena, sliding to a stop. “…Victor?”)

 

 

“He’s probably enjoying the break,” Yurio snarked.

 

“Claws away, kitten,” the other Victor said, before Victor could even think of responding.

 

“Whatever,” he muttered, but he subsided, slouching down the wall even further.

 

“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Yuuri suggested. “I think I’ve missed a few things.”

 

***

 

Victor leaned back against the hard couch back, watching Yuuri as he collected his thoughts. “Okay,” Yuuri said eventually. “So. If I understand, Victor woke up here, in this hotel room, but the last thing he remembers before that is being at my hometown rink with a different Katsuki Yuuri. Yuri Plisetsky thought he was the Victor that was supposed to be here, but that he’d been hit in the head, so he went looking for help, and found _this_ Victor-”

 

“Here, Yuuri, it’ll be easier if you call one of us Vitya,” Victor interrupted.

 

“Which one?” he asked, adjusting his glasses.

 

He exchanged a look with the other Victor. “Well, I’m the one that’s not supposed to be here, so I might as well be the one that gets a nickname,” he volunteered.

 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, nodding. “So he found Victor, and brought him back, and you all realized that there were two Victors. Then, because Victor, uh, Vitya, is Yuuri’s coach in the other world, Yuri and Vic- Vitya came looking for me, who turned out to be the Yuuri from this world, and not the other one. Then we went for a really uncomfortable walk. And now we’re all back here, but you still have no idea what happened, or why, and there’s two Victors.”

 

“That’s about it,” Victor said. “Anyone have any ideas?”

 

“What were you doing, Victor?” Yurio asked, looking up from his phone.

 

“When?” Victor replied.

 

“Didn’t you just say you’d be Vitya? I meant him,” Yurio said, pointing. “Victor.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“What do you mean?” the other Victor asked.

 

“I thought you were still asleep when I woke up, but you obviously weren’t. When I went looking for Yakov, you were coming back from somewhere and you had your practice bag with you. Where were you?”

 

“I went skating,” he said lightly, but something about his tone was a challenge. “I’m not happy about my performance yesterday, and I was considering a new element order.”

 

“You weren’t happy?” Yuuri said, surprised. “But-”

 

“It wasn’t good enough,” the other Victor said with finality, but he was still smiling calmly.

 

He was lying, Victor could see it.

 

How long had he told the same lies? There was no way it would be the technical aspect the other Victor had been unhappy with. They were the same age, and Victor knew his body would have made it through at least one more season without the years catching up to him.

 

Even if they had, Victor would never have punished himself with an early morning practice the day after a competition. That was just begging for an injury.

 

Victor had tried the same things, skating alone, trying to find his spark again.

 

No, the other Victor wasn’t unhappy with his performance.

 

He was just unhappy.

 

“Oh!” Victor said, breaking through the silence with deliberation. The other Victor wouldn’t want to be called out for lying, and Victor suddenly saw a way past it. “If you were skating this morning, and I was skating with Yuuri, then maybe-”

 

“If you’re about to suggest that this happened because of skating, I’m leaving,” Yurio said flatly.

 

The other Victor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his lips quirking into a rueful grin. “It may as well have happened because of skating as anything else, Yuri,” he said. “It’s worth a try.”

 

“Can you get private ice time?” Yuuri asked. “It’s short notice.”

 

“A Russian champion skater, in Russia, looking for rink time?” Victor said, exchanging a look with the other Victor. “That’s not going to be a problem.”

 

***

 

“Who are you texting, Yurio?”

 

Yurio sent him a withering look across the back seat of the cab. “None of your business.”

 

By necessity, they’d split across two taxis, some time apart. They were running a risk just by going out together, but they couldn’t just sit in the hotel and hope. Yuuri and the other Victor had gone ahead, and while Victor couldn’t blame his other self for wanting a little time away from Yurio, the constant scowling was starting to wear thin.

 

Victor leaned over, catching a glimpse of Yurio’s screen just before he turned it off. “Otabek?” His Yurio didn’t know Otabek, did he? Victor hardly knew him, and they’d shared a podium.

 

“Yeah, so what?” Yurio said.

 

“I just didn’t know you were friends with him, Yurio, no need to get upset.”

 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about this world, _Vitya_ ,” Yurio said unpleasantly. “Like when to shut up in it.”

 

“That’s true,” Victor agreed. “How did you meet Otabek?”

 

“…Skate America,” Yurio said, and maybe he was even grouchier, but the way he just kept talking even after he’d decided to sulk was perfectly reminiscent of the Yurio he knew. “Stop grinning at me like that!”

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Victor said. “Have you told him about all this?”

 

“Of course not, and I’m not going to,” Yurio said, going back to texting. “Once you’re gone, I’m going to pretend this never happened so I can focus on Nationals.”

 

The next moment was one of the few fortunate ones of the day, because Yurio was still staring at his phone when Victor realized what he’d just said.

 

Nationals.

 

Yurio hadn’t qualified for the Grand Prix Final.

 

Victor was suddenly sharply furious at this entire, stupid, upside-down world. There was no reason why Yurio should have missed qualifying, and a hundred why he shouldn’t have. He was so talented, so good, he’d worked so hard. His programs had been incredible.

 

Only…Victor hadn’t actually seen Yurio’s programs. And if he’d never left for Japan, then Yurio had never chased him. Losing to Yuuri had been a major turning point in his attitude towards the competition, and if he’d had his wake up call later, like when the actual competitions started, then.

 

Damn.

 

Victor had affected more than himself by leaving.

 

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?”

 

Yurio was staring at him now, and Victor forced a smile. “You wanted me to be, didn’t you?”

 

“It’s weird that you actually did it,” Yurio informed him.

 

The taxi pulled up to a nondescript rink, the same one that the other Victor said he’d been at in the morning. Victor smiled at Yurio as he got out, closing the door on his parting shot.

 

“I might be the best skater in this world for now, but don’t worry Yurio. You’re going to surpass us all.”

 

He left Yurio to gape after him as he walked into the rink. He’d find the oblique insult against his Victor and be chasing after him in a moment, of that Victor was certain.

 

He just hoped that skating would work, as stupid an idea as he thought it was.

 

Yuuri was waiting for him.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Fighting! Romance! A Skate Off! One of these will definitely work, Victor, don't worry!


	5. The Key Isn’t Skating, Victor, Get it Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting! Romance! A Skate Off! One of these will definitely work, Victor, don't worry!

***

 

“So, what’s it like training in Detroit?”

 

Victor was caught off guard by Yuuri’s surprised glance and then laugh. He was just trying to fill the awkward silence that their long head start on the other Victor and Yuri had created with a safe topic.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Yuuri apologized once he’d noticed Victor’s confusion. “It’s just that the Victor from the other world asked me almost the same question.”

 

Victor had chosen a bench across the dressing room from Yuuri to pull his skates on, and it gave him a clear look at Yuuri as he leaned back down to tie his skates.

 

“What did he ask you about?” Victor prompted when Yuuri seemed content to let the topic die.

 

“Oh, uh, Phichit, mostly,” Yuuri said evasively, but there was an air of embarrassment about him.

 

“Phichit?” Victor repeated. Why would the other Victor want to know about Phichit when it was clearly Yuuri he was interested in?

 

“Yeah. Uh, Detroit’s good to train in.” Yuuri was pushing on and changing the subject, and Victor let it happen. “It gets cold in the winter, though, compared to home.” He looked up, realizing something, and added, “Not as cold as Russia, I guess.”

 

“I suppose,” Victor said. “It doesn’t seem so bad to me. I’ve never lived anywhere but St. Petersburg, so I wouldn’t know anywhere else as anything but a tourist.”

 

“Right,” Yuuri nodded. “I guess it’s different when it’s home.”

 

“Home’s a long way away for you, isn’t it?” Victor asked, hoping he was correctly reading Yuuri’s wistful expression.

 

“Yes. I visited earlier this year, but I didn’t realize how much I’d missed until I went back.”

 

“But you train in Detroit anyway?” It didn’t make sense. In the other world, Victor had trained with Yuuri in Japan, he was sure he hadn’t misunderstood that.

 

“I didn’t have a coach,” Yuuri said, a little defensively, but then he looked straight at Victor and fiercely added, “I needed to compete this year. I had to go back.”

 

_Needed?_

 

There was a light behind Yuuri’s eyes that Victor hadn’t felt in a long time, but something in him answered back regardless.

 

“Wow,” Victor said, but it came out sounding almost teasing, and Yuuri clearly heard it that way, hunching back over his half-tied skates.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his laces.

 

Victor sighed at himself and stood up. He wanted to see more of that Yuuri, the one that looked him in the eye and challenged him, but he couldn’t help but be aware of how easy it would be for him to say the wrong thing.

 

The only solution he could think of was to say less, and show more. “Let’s go,” he suggested.

 

Yuuri looked back up at him, and that wasn’t the passion and drive that Victor wanted to see, but it was something more delicate and hard to qualify that spoke to him nonetheless.

 

“Out there? With just you?”

 

“Or we can wait for Victor and Yuri,” Victor offered. “But I watched an hour of your performance videos earlier, Yuuri. I’d like to see you skate for real.”

 

Yuuri hesitated, and for a second Victor thought he was going to say no. But he stood instead, and there was that spark again.

 

“Of course,” he said.

 

***

 

Victor started them easily, slipping through forms and figures that he’d mastered by eight years old, and watched Yuuri follow him.

 

He was self-conscious, and clearly so, but stayed with Victor despite it.

 

“I do like the way you skate,” and that was not something he’d intended to say out loud just yet.

 

‘Say less’ was easier said than done, apparently.

 

Yuuri spun wide, his head coming up with a jolt of surprise. “You do?”

 

“Don’t you?” Victor asked. “You skate beautifully.”

 

“Ah.” Yuuri hesitated, then said quickly, “I learned to skate watching you, so if you think it’s beautiful, that’s why.”

 

Victor laughed, and Yuuri looked abashed. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever called me vain.”

 

Yuuri nearly fell over, and Victor reached out for him with a steadying hand. He felt lighter, somehow. “I’m only joking,” he said. “Thank you.”

 

They were very close, now. Yuuri straightened, and Victor leaned back a little. “I mean it, though,” he said. “I don’t think it’s myself I’m seeing. You have a unique style, and it could take you even further than it has.”

 

He was ready for Yuuri to blush and deny again, but he was rewarded instead with a hesitant smile. In that moment, Victor could see what would have carried him to Japan and kept him there.

 

It was easy to smile back, a gentle one without pretence, and then he pushed off, gliding backwards and away as the sounds of a scuffle emanated from the dressing room.

 

“I think Vitya and Yuri have made it,” he said.

 

“Wait,” Yuuri said boldly, skating after him. “Victor.”

 

“Yes?” he said, surprised by the sudden shift.

 

“I know- I know I’m not the Yuuri from the other Victor’s world, and that you’re not him, but- but-“

 

He visibly lost his nerve, shoulders drooping, but Victor wanted to hear it. He pushed in closer, until they were nearly touching. “But?”

 

Yuuri looked up at him, and Victor couldn’t help but stare back, his heart fluttering. “If-”

 

A shout of rage from the dressing rooms cut him off, and Yuuri distanced himself immediately as Yuri came storming out to stand ice-side.

 

Victor opened his mouth to say something, anything, and Yuri beat him to it. “Victor!”

 

“What’s wrong, Yuri?”

 

“That asshole thinks he’s a better skater than you,” Yuri spat out, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

 

“And you… were defending me? Thanks Yura!” Victor said brightly. He hoped he wasn’t blushing; Yuri would be merciless.

 

“No!” Yuri spluttered, lying transparently. “You’re _both_ washed-up and past your expiration date!”

 

“Oh, you were! That’s so sweet!” Now Yuuri was even laughing a little, and Victor couldn’t remember the last time a smile had come so easily to him. “I guess I need to prove him wrong, right?”

 

The other Victor had followed Yuri out of the dressing room, laughing with just a hint of a challenge. “If skating is how to send me home, you’d better show us your best, Victor.”

 

Yuuri skated past him, stopping at the boards nearest to the other Victor and Yuri, leaving Victor alone in the middle of the rink.

 

He’d been performing his whole life. Nerves hadn’t been a problem for a decade.

 

And yet, this set of three was a more intimidating audience than the millions of strangers before them.

 

He looked at the other Victor. “What would you like to see?”

 

His eyes were narrow and knowing, glowing in the dim overhead lighting. “What were you skating this morning?” he asked, the playful mood he’d had disappearing.

 

“My free program,” he lied. “I told you already.”

 

“Oh?” the other Victor said. Yuuri and Yuri were silent in anticipation, one on the ice and one off it as they flanked him. “So boring.”

 

Yuri scowled immediately, and Victor shook his head to cut him off before he started.

 

“Boring?” he echoed. “You haven’t even seen it, Vitya.”

 

The nickname hung in the air between them, and the other Victor smiled. “I don’t have to,” he said. “I can guess at it.” He drummed his fingers along the boards. “Have you seen Yuuri’s performances this year?” He tipped his head towards Yuuri.

 

Victor nodded.

 

“Then show me _his_ free program instead.”

 

Yuuri and Yuri both sucked in a gasp of air, though presumably for different reasons, since Yuri looked outraged, and Yuuri decidedly did not.

 

Victor contemplated that, and enjoyed the idea of it. “Do you mind?” he said to Yuuri, who shook his head rapidly. “Sure, then. No problem.”

 

Most of the time he’d spent watching Yuuri’s film earlier had ended up focused on his current programs, at least enough that he could come close to skating it correctly. He took a moment to go over the elements in his head, remembering the way that Yuuri had moved across the ice as he transitioned through them.

 

“We’re waiting,” Yuri called, leaning onto the barrier.

 

Victor ignored him and looked to Yuuri instead, who’d pulled himself up to sit on the barrier and looked slightly like he was about to die from a combination of anticipation and excitement.

 

He winked, and the other Victor put out a hand to steady Yuuri when he swayed back.

 

Amazing.

 

“The second jump was a Lutz, right?” Victor asked unnecessarily, toying with his hair.

 

Yuuri nodded, just as quickly and sweetly as he’d given permission to try his program, and the other Victor raised an eyebrow at him as Yuri faked a gag.

 

Victor closed his eyes and began.

 

He moved through the opening steps. Yuuri had spun here, raised his chin there, cocked his wrists just so, and together it had woven a tapestry more memorable than the movements themselves.

 

He favoured a performance heavy front end, loading the jumps on the back for the points. It was a good tactic for someone who only had two quads to keep a competitive technical score, but it was risky all the same. A pacing mistake in the front end could mean that he’d be too tired when it came time for the jumps.

 

But the technical was only one part of a performance.

 

Victor hit the first jump- quad toe, triple toe- easily, and let the memory of how Yuuri had moved guide him through the next set of steps.

 

Heel, toe, crossover, change directions. Technically flawless.

 

Thematically…not quite right.

 

Triple Lutz. Triple Loop.

 

The next sequence had been beautiful when Yuuri had done it, the best part of his performance without question. Victor moved his hands, his legs, his face, the way Yuuri had, and caught a glance of the other Victor, watching him with a knowing smile.

 

Of course it was a knowing smile. He knew things that not even Victor knew about himself. About their self.

 

Flying sit spin to a combination spin.

 

When he came out of it, he saw Yuuri.

 

He was transfixed, staring at Victor with glittering eyes and an awed smile, leaning so far forward that the only thing keeping him on the boards was the other Victor’s hold on his shirt.

 

Oh. Maybe then…

 

The second half came easier, faster, and Victor couldn’t help but focus on the way Yuuri had looked at him, like he was offering something precious.

 

He wanted it.

 

A triple axel combination jump. The quad toe. Spins and lunges, graceful scraping footwork. The triple flip.

 

Victor breathing hard by the time he made his approach for the quad Salchow, his legs shaking and his vision blurry.

 

He stumbled on the landing, leaning too far and nearly having to put a hand down to save it. He wouldn’t look, couldn’t look, at their reaction. His heart was beating out of his chest.

 

The final step sequence was the last barrier, and Victor deliberately finished it facing away from his audience, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that had come out of nowhere, forcing his throat to swallow.

 

How?

 

The rink was silent, the atmosphere heavy with tension, but Victor couldn’t turn around just yet.

 

“Did it work?” he asked.

 

The whisper quiet strokes of blades on ice announced an approach. “No,” his other self said. “Or at least, I’m still here. Was that fun?”

 

“That was amazing!” Yuuri said, skating around in front of him, nearly bouncing with joy. “You did that just from watching me a couple times?”

 

“Well, it was more than a couple,” Victor said, but Yuuri missed hearing it, sweeping around him a wide circle.

 

“That's gross,” Yuri informed him.

 

“You’ll understand one day, little Yura,” Victor said, reaching out to pat him on the head.

 

Yuri dodged backwards, cursing, and Victor laughed, chasing after him. “Run, Yurio!” his other self yelled. “He’ll make you wear the cat ears!”

 

“I hate you both!” Yuri shouted over his shoulder, but he was speeding up anyway.

 

“Head him off, Yuuri!” Victor called, waving him along.

 

Yuuri obediently skated towards the corner, but skittered aside to let Yuri pass when he turned toward him.

 

“Come on, Yuuri,” the other Victor called encouragingly as Yuuri skated back to him. “He’s never actually bitten anyone.”

 

“Maybe not in your world,” Victor joked. “Here we got him a rabies shot, just in case.”

 

He caught up to Yuri with a burst of speed, catching him around his waist and lifting him off the ice. Yuri drooped in resigned anticipation, and Victor gently patted his head.

 

Victor swung Yuri under his arm and skated back to the other Victor, who laughed and said, “I think my Yurio would’ve tried to disembowel me with a skate for that.”

 

“At least someone from your world has a brain,” Yuri said, crossing his arms. The bite of his tone was undercut by the indignity of his position, though.

 

“Well, I showed you mine, and it didn’t work,” Victor said, getting back to business. “Are you going to show us what you can do?”

 

“If you can still do anything,” Yuri added. “Coach Vitya.”

 

Victor bobbled him in reprimand, but challenged his other self with a glance. “Well?”

 

“Well, since you demonstrated Yuuri’s free skate for us, how about I show you my Yuuri’s?” the other Victor suggested with a disarming grin.

 

“Sure,” Victor agreed, both because he couldn’t deny his curiosity and because the other Victor had clearly been hoping for it. “We’ll be over here.”

 

Yuuri followed him, leaving a wary distance between himself and Yuri’s dangling skates. He didn’t need to leave as much as he did, though.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t sit on the barrier this time,” Victor suggested.

 

“Hm?” Yuuri skated closer to him to hear better.

 

“You nearly fell off watching me, didn’t you?” Victor clarified. “It would be a sad end to your season if I couldn’t catch you in time.”

 

Yuuri’s cheeks coloured, and Yuri scoffed loudly. Victor patted him on the head again, which was the last straw for his patience.

 

“Put me down,” he demanded.

 

Victor obliged and followed Yuuri off the ice through the gate, slipping his skate guards on.

 

Yuri contrarily perched on top of the wall.

 

“If you fall, I won’t be held responsible to Yakov,” Victor warned.

 

“Like I would,” Yuri said scornfully. “It’s just you.”

 

Victor leaned on the wall on the far side him anyway, so he and Yuuri had him flanked. “Ready!” he called to the other Victor, who wasn’t listening to them in the slightest.

 

His eyes looked far away to somewhere else, and there was a gentle smile on his face as he closed his eyes and lowered his chin.

 

When he moved, it was like he’d been replaced by a completely different person.

 

Victor knew his skating, had expected it to be strange to watch another Victor, but it wasn’t like he was watching himself at all. He moved with a certain style that Victor couldn’t mistake, and he wondered if Yuuri could see it too.

 

Quad toe, double toe, flawless.

 

A step sequence into a sit spin, and Victor couldn’t look away. This was him, this was his body, but he’d been stuck in a rut of performing emotion for the benefit of the audience. He knew that this Victor could feel it again.

 

Victor sighed as his other self landed his quad Salchow without a stumble. It was earlier in the program, and yes, the other Victor had the advantage of knowing his Yuuri’s program better, but still. It was a strange feeling to have been so distracted during a skate that he’d made a pacing mistake like that.

 

The other Victor jumped a triple loop, and Victor smiled. He skated like Yuuri. It was beautiful to watch.

 

When he spread his arms wide, signalling a change in the music that only he could hear, Victor felt his heart soar. He could see now what the other Victor felt, what it was inside him that made it so easy for him to perform.

 

A lunge, a spread eagle, an Ina Bauer. Perfect, graceful. A triple axel that couldn’t have clearer in meaning if the other Victor had grabbed his arms and shook him, begging him to understand.

 

The jumps came faster now, but his other self didn’t falter, competition shape or not. A triple flip, a three jump combination, a triple Lutz and triple toe.

 

And then the other Victor turned into a step sequence, and there was a gasp at his elbow that tore Victor’s attention away from the ice.

 

Yuuri must have come around to stand beside him, but he was watching the other Victor with shock in his eyes.

 

When Victor blinked, he felt the world shift, and they were at a different rink. The daylight from the windows had turned to shadows, and the posters were in Japanese.

 

“How?” Yuuri said from where he was still standing on the other side of Yuri.

 

And then the second Yuuri beside him screamed Victor’s name and vaulted over the wall, his sneakers sliding out from underneath him as he landed on the ice.

 

Yuri grabbed his arm, holding him upright, and dropped off the barrier to land more gracefully.

 

The new Yuuri looked at him, and his eyes got even wider as he gasped out, “Yurio?”

 

“What’s going on?” Yuri said, looking at Victor.

 

The world slid again, and they were back in the Moscow rink, the other Yuuri disappearing with it, and then sprung back like a stretched elastic to the Japanese rink and the other Yuuri, now looking at him.

 

“Victor?” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“Yuuri!” The other Victor had stopped in his tracks at the world shift, but when he recognized his Yuuri he’d pushed into a mad dash, joy bursting across his face like a sunrise.

 

The new Yuuri half turned in response to his name just as the other Victor bowled into him, scooping him off his feet and holding him tightly.

 

“Yuuri,” his other self said again, and then something quieter as his Yuuri’s hands wrapped around his shoulders and he tucked his nose into his neck.

 

The other Victor’s momentum carried the two of them into a slow rotation, and in a moment the other Yuuri was facing them again. More accurately, he was staring past Victor, shocked and silent as he looked Yuuri in the eye.

 

The elastic band snapped, and they were fully back in Moscow. The other Yuuri was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.

 

The other Victor remained.

 

He turned, looking nearly as shocked as his Yuuri had. “It worked,” he said, and then he was smiling, confusingly.

 

Victor wished that he understood him.

 

Yuuri was absolutely silent, and Yuri as well. “But you haven’t gone home,” Victor said, eventually, just to break the mounting quiet.

 

“He knows I’m fine,” the other Victor said. “And that I won’t leave him. And he’s not stuck here now too.” He nodded, firmly convinced, or trying hard to prove he was. “And now we know what the key is to getting me home.”

 

“Skating?” Victor said, and his other self gave him a long, inscrutable look.

 

“Yeah,” he agreed eventually. “Skating.” He stretched his arms up above his head. “Let’s come back later. I’m tired.”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Vitya tries his hand at matchmaking. Phichit's excellent day gets Even Better.


	6. Don’t Worry, Phichit Will Be Fine By Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vitya tries his hand at matchmaking. Phichit's excellent day gets Even Better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to the end :) Also omg getting up to the finale, I'm so excited.
> 
> Also, there's a POV change midway through this chapter. It's pretty clearly marked, but, uh, they've got the same name, so I bet it's also pretty easy to miss.

 

***

 

The weight of Yuuri in his arms fresh in his memory, Victor was making plans. He was going to go home, that was certain, even if the Victor in this world wasn’t ready to take what was sitting right in front of him.

 

The way was lit up, and the person holding the torch was sitting next to him in the taxi.

 

Yurio had refused to travel with him again, so they’d switched, and now Yuuri was the one escorting him around. Watching him as he quietly watched Moscow pass by, Victor felt a pang at the contrast.

 

His Yuuri had looked so worried.

 

“I’ll come home.”

 

That was all he’d had the presence of mind to promise in between pulling Yuuri in to him and the worlds shifting apart again, but he hoped it was enough of a reassurance.

 

No, he was sure it would be enough.

 

As soon as the Hasetsu rink had flickered away the first time and taken Yuuri with it, Victor had known that he hadn’t brought him across for long. He hadn’t been trying to bring him to this world at all, in fact the opposite was true, but it was a clue.

 

He had called Yuuri to him, however briefly. Victor had bared his heart, and the universe had responded.

 

So then, something must have called Victor. Something strong enough to pull him, and desperate enough to hold on.

 

He’d seen the other Victor as he’d skated the free program that this world’s Yuuri had used this season, watched as he’d realized some of what he’d been missing, but his other self still wasn’t willing to admit what he’d been doing this morning at the rink.

 

Whether he’d meant it or not, whether he _knew_ it or not, the other Victor had brought him here.

 

“Victor,” Yuuri said quietly, mindful of the taxi driver. “Are you okay?”

 

His automatic yes died on his lips when he made eye contact with Yuuri. He settled for a shrug.

 

“That program,” Yuuri said, looking back at his lap. “The way you skated it,” he started again.

 

“Just like you, right?” Victor said warmly, reaching across to lay his hand on top of Yuuri’s.

 

“No,” Yuuri said, pulling his hand half away, leaving just the barest contact between them. “I just-” he sighed, frustrated, and changed topics. “The way you looked at him, your Yuuri. You love him.”

 

“Yes,” Victor said, confused. Of course he loved Yuuri. Of course when he’d skated it had been like this Yuuri. He’d seen how close their styles were when his other self had skated this Yuuri’s program, and he was sure that he knew his Yuuri’s love well enough to skate his program faithfully.

 

“You and Victor are different, but I think that deep down you’re the same,” Yuuri continued, leaning away a little. “I’m the different one.”

 

“You’re wrong,” Victor said without a thought, maybe a little too strongly. “You think that program wasn’t like you? You think that-” He stopped himself. Yuuri was pressed hard against the car door, like he thought he could fall right through it and escape. “You’re not the same,” he said, carefully, gently, taking Yuuri’s hand in his for real. “But if you think you’re so different, then I’d like you to reconsider.”

 

“How could you know?” Yuuri asked tightly. “You don’t even know me.”

 

He couldn’t help a smile at that. “You grew up in Hasetsu, Japan. Your family loves and supports you, but they don’t really understand figure skating. You left to train in Detroit, and last year you qualified for the Grand Prix Final for the first time. Your childhood dog passed away just before the competition, and it derailed your entire season.” Victor stopped there, waiting until Yuuri had turned to look at him again. “Those are just facts, right? Anyone could know that. It doesn’t mean that you’re the same where it counts. Except…”

 

The taxi pulled up to the hotel, and Victor paid the driver with the cash his other self had given him. When they’d stepped out into the cold again, Yuuri was still watching him.

 

Victor came around to the sidewalk, and leaned in close, as much to prevent anyone overhearing as anything else. “You get wrapped up in yourself and forget to think of other people. You’re quiet and soft-spoken, but you’re also prone to making loud and impulsive decisions. You get intimidated by your competition, but you also have a tenacity that comes straight from your heart. Despite having a low opinion of yourself, you won’t accept anything other than the best. It’s been your lifelong ambition for me to see you, Yuuri, and I did. I know your flaws,” Victor touched his hand, just barely, “but I know your strength, too.”

 

He could see the moment when Yuuri changed, that familiar look of resolve starting to show in his eyes.

 

“I think, Yuuri, that you’re the one who doesn’t know us,” he said, smiling down at him. “Wouldn’t you like to?”

 

Yuuri nodded, just once, a sharp bob of his chin.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

There was an abrupt reestablishment of space between them as Yuuri turned away. “Phichit-kun!”

 

Phichit was exactly as smiling and good-natured as he’d been in Victor’s own world, and Victor relaxed. This was a conversation he could navigate without raising suspicion.

 

“Take a selfie with me,” he instructed, nudging in between them. “My followers don’t believe that you haven’t been abducted and keep telling me to go save you.”

 

Well, that was probably Victor’s fault. He smiled, leaning in close to Phichit and giving a thumbs up to the camera.

 

Several photos later, Phichit was satisfied. “Hi,” he said belatedly to Victor. “Sorry, I need him for a minute.”

 

He grabbed Yuuri’s sleeve, pulling him a few steps away and leaning in close. The topic of their whispered conversation was obvious, judging from the frequent glances Phichit was throwing his way and the way Yuuri had flushed a brilliant shade of red. Victor kept a polite smile on his face, trying to look innocent.

 

“Sorry,” Phichit said eventually, turning back to Victor. “Yuuri and I were supposed to go sight-seeing. I didn’t realize you two would still be…talking?”

 

“Yuuri is a very good conversationalist,” Victor said, trying to ignore the way Phichit nudged at Yuuri with his elbow. “We lost track of time.”

 

“It seemed like you were standing pretty close, just for talking,” Phichit observed, tilting his head in a way that invited Victor to fill in details. His grin was still wide and friendly, but Victor realized in a rush that he hadn’t actually got an answer out of Yuuri earlier when he’d asked about a relationship between the two of them.

 

“Oh,” Victor said, putting his hands in his pockets casually. “I wasn’t trying to cause any problems between you two. Yuuri didn’t say that you were dating, but…” he trailed off artfully, trying to look vulnerable, and was met by a pair of astonished faces.

 

“Victor,” Yuuri squeaked in the way he had that said he was embarrassed.

 

“Cause any problems?” Phichit repeated slowly, and then his smile got impossibly wider. “Yuuri, what have you been doing?”

 

“Nothing!” Yuuri said, and Victor had to laugh at the way Phichit gasped.

 

“I can’t believe you kept this secret from me!” he exclaimed. “We’re best friends!”

 

“I didn’t keep anything secret!” Yuuri shot back. “We only met this morning!”

 

Phichit’s next gasp was even more scandalized and pleased. “Yuuri!”

 

Well, at least they weren’t dating, though Yuuri looked like he was going to hyperventilate.

 

“It was good to see you Phichit, nowIhavetogogoodbye,” Yuuri said, and would’ve run if Phichit hadn’t caught his arm, laughing.

 

“You’re not getting rid of me this easily,” he said. “You said you’d come to Red Square with me, so you’d better. Even if you are having a whirlwind romance with Victor Nikiforov.”

 

Yuuri looked between the two of them, too caught between denial and exhilaration to say much of anything.

 

“I could come along,” Victor offered, an idea hitting him. “I’m not from Moscow, but I do speak the language.”

 

“Really?” Phichit said, genuinely surprised for the first time. “I was just kidding. Are you two really-”

 

Victor winked, and Phichit’s eyes widened. “I just need to get something from my room,” Victor said. “Could you two wait in the lobby for me to come back?”

 

***

 

***

 

***

 

The head start they’d had on the other Victor and Yuuri had been used up when Yuri had demanded that they stop for food on the way back from the rink, and they’d only just made it up to the hotel room when Victor’s phone buzzed at him.

 

“Yuri,” he said, looking at his screen. “Do you think I should be upset about this?”

 

“What’s he done now?” Yuri asked, throwing his coat onto the floor.

 

“I think he’s told Phichit Chulanont that he’s , well, that I’m dating Yuuri.” The caption on the photo included the word date and several emoji-based innuendoes. Victor was pretty sure.

 

Yuri pulled out his own phone, and grimaced after a moment, an unusually calm reaction. Then he looked up, and there was an unnerving glint of danger in his eyes. “Are you upset because he’s crossed a line?” he asked. “Or do you just want it to be true?”

 

Victor felt his face go slack with surprise, and Yuri bristled. “Do you think I’m stupid, Victor?” he said, crossing his arms. “That other Victor is happy. Do you even know what you look like next to him?”

 

“Yuri,” Victor started, but he didn’t know how to continue.

 

“I couldn’t even tell you were miserable.” Yuri was staring right through him, his eyes narrow and angry. “And then some version of you that ditched me, and quit skating, and fawns over that Japanese loser turns up, and- and-“

 

He ran out of words as quickly as he’d started, and settled for just glaring up at Victor. Lost for words, Victor tried a reassuring smile, but that just set him off again.

 

“Yeah, that face you’re making,” he said, pointing fiercely at him. “You fooled everybody with that stupid smile, maybe even yourself. When was the last time you were actually happy instead of just faking it and hoping no one saw through it?”

 

“It’s not as bad as you think, Yura,” Victor finally got out.

 

“You’re lying,” Yuri snapped. “I spend every day with you, Victor. All you do is skate, and it doesn’t even make you happy.”

 

Yuri stopped again, and Victor was grateful that he usually just settled for swearing when he was angry. He had to say something. This was Yuri, this was a boy twelve years younger than him, and he’d just torn him apart.

 

The words were fluttering just out of reach, all of them reassuring and untrue. There was nothing he could say to make Yuri wrong.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Yura. I’m sorry.”

 

“Whatever,” Yuri said. “Just do something about it.” He turned on his heel and vanished into his bedroom, leaving Victor alone and feeling like he’d been hit by a car.

 

He was still standing there when his other self came in, quiet and subdued.

 

“I heard some of that,” he said softly. “Sorry for eavesdropping.”

 

“It’s fine,” Victor said on reflex. “You’re me, after all. It’s nothing you don’t know.”

 

“I didn’t fully realize how lonely I was,” the other Victor said, still in a gentle, conversational tone. “Not until I’d left.”

 

“What do I do?” Victor asked.

 

“I don’t think even I can tell you that,” his other self said, and Victor couldn’t bear the sympathy in his eyes. “But for right now, maybe you should just take a break. Yuuri’s waiting for you in the lobby.”

 

***

 

Yuuri and Phichit had commandeered a single chair between them to wait for Victor. Yuuri was looking over Phichit’s shoulder as he tapped on his phone with a vaguely outraged expression.

 

“Phichit-kun, stop encouraging them!” he hissed as Victor approached.

 

“But look at how many likes it got!” Phichit replied, scrolling rapidly. “Everyone’s so happy.”

 

“We weren’t on a date,” Yuuri said, and Victor stopped. He’d let them get off that topic before he let them know he was there.

 

“Yuuri.” Phichit’s tone was sweet, but condescending. “Victor Nikiforov sweeps you away, you tell Ciao Ciao that we shouldn’t wait for you to come back, and you won’t tell me what you’ve doing, _and_ I’m pretty sure your crush on him could be seen from space. Be honest.”

 

Yuuri stammered, and Phichit laughed, and Victor took advantage of the lull in actual conversation to sidle up beside them. “Hi!”

 

They jumped in unison, Phichit nearly fumbling his phone, and Yuuri just sighing once he’d realized it was Victor. A moment later though, he looked a little more closely at Victor.

 

“It’s you!” he said, obviously surprised.

 

“Of course,” Victor said, glancing at Phichit and then back to Yuuri meaningfully. “Weren’t you waiting for me?”

 

“Yes!” Yuuri said quickly, picking up the clue. There was only one Victor, as far as Phichit was concerned. Yuuri shouldn’t be surprised to see him.

 

“Great!” Phichit blurted out. “Let’s go!” He lifted Yuuri up with him and headed for the doors. “I want to see St. Basil’s!”

 

Victor caught up to them, leaning in to murmur in Yuuri’s ear, “He said you were waiting for me, but I guess he didn’t tell you that. Actually, I’m surprised you noticed so quickly.”

 

“It’s easy,” Yuuri said, just as quietly, and then he was daringly leaning up to Victor’s ear and whispering, “I’m glad it’s you.”

 

And then he was the one dragging Phichit, rushing ahead. “The Metro is this way, right?”

 

Victor blinked, once, twice, and realized he was being rapidly left behind.

 

The Metro was busy in the afternoon, and Victor found himself with a pair of ducklings tailing after him, checking him closely at the hip as he led the way. “Please don’t get lost,” he said over his shoulder. “I think I’m already on Celestino’s bad side.”

 

“No,” Phichit corrected. “Once your coach said everything was fine, Ciao Ciao thought it was funny too.” He stepped closer to Victor to avoid a large man with a swinging bag, and asked, “How do you know Yuuri, anyway? He never said anything about meeting you.”

 

Victor hadn’t expected the question, despite how obvious it was in hindsight, and he didn’t have an answer that didn’t make him sound like a total idiot. “Um.”

 

“Wait, did you really, genuinely, introduce yourself to Yuuri by hugging him and walking away with him?” Phichit said incredulously. “And you went along with it? Yuuri!”

 

Victor bit back the urge to deny that he’d done just that, since that would involve claiming there were two Victor Nikiforov’s. Yuuri didn’t reply, but when Victor checked on him, he was studiously avoiding looking at both of them.

 

Victor herded them onto the train, and they ended up stuffed into a corner of the overfull car, Victor’s back against the wall, Yuuri up against him, and Phichit pressed up against them both.

 

“But really,” he continued, and turned his huge dark eyes up at Victor, not smiling anymore. “What’s going on here?”

 

“Nothing,” Yuuri said firmly. “Everything’s fine. Trust me.”

 

Victor put on his best smile, trying not to think of the way Yuri had looked at him, and waited for Phichit to give up.

 

“Okay,” he said eventually, slowly, looking at Yuuri. “If you say so.”

 

“Let’s take a photo!” Victor suggested brightly, pulling out his phone. “I haven’t posted anything today.”

 

Phichit still seemed suspicious, but the siren call of social media won out and he pulled his mask off his face. After a little shuffling, the three of them were facing the same direction, and Victor snapped a couple photos, queueing the best one to post when they were above ground again.

 

Victor let Phichit and Yuuri carry the conversation for the rest of the trip, conscious of but trying to ignore the way that Yuuri swayed up against him with the movements of the train car, his shoulder blades pressing against Victor’s chest even through their coats.

 

Finally, the intercom announced Red Square, and they nudged their way through the crowd and out onto the platform.

 

“Okay,” Phichit said, all enthusiasm again. “Let’s go!” He wove through the crowd with practiced ease, and Yuuri chased after him without hesitation- following Phichit seemed to be something he was experienced at. Victor was left to bring up the rear, trailing Yuuri through the crowd and dodging tourists.

 

He caught up to them in the wide courtyard as they looked up at the walls.

 

“Cool!” Phichit pronounced, snapping a photo, and Yuuri nodded agreement.

 

“Come on,” Victor said, smiling at their enthusiasm. “I’ll show you the lucky photo spot.”

 

As he led the way to the gates, Victor picked up on the tail end of a conversation some nearby girls were having.

 

“-said he’d be here!”

 

“He just posted from the Metro, I’m sure he’ll be here.”

 

“I’m cold,” a third girl complained. “I want to see Vitya.”

 

Victor slowed down on well-trained instinct. Those were fans of his. Smile, take a photo, sign an autograph, repeat. Be the living legend.

 

Yesterday, he would’ve done it.

 

Today, he looked at Yuuri, who smiled at him, and wanted to be Victor.

 

Neither Yuuri nor Phichit understood Russian, if they’d even noticed the girls talking. They’d gotten a little ahead of him and stopped, waiting.

 

Victor made a choice.

 

He pulled his hat down further, and threw an arm over Yuuri’s shoulder, steering him along. “Let’s walk faster,” he said cheerfully.

 

He swept past Zero Kilometer and through the gate into Red Square itself, watching Yuuri’s face light up at the sheer scale of it. “The Cathedral is down at that far end,” he said to Phichit. “You have to pay to get in, but it’s worth it.”

 

“Turn around!” Phichit said, leaning against Victor’s arm until all three of them had rotated. The late afternoon sun was just falling behind the Kremlin, and Victor had to admit that the lighting was perfect as Phichit posed them.

 

“Don’t post that right away, okay?” he said. “Some of my fans are here and they can get excitable.”

 

Phichit looked slightly like Victor had torn his heart out and stomped it, which he suspected was a slight overreaction, but he got over it in a moment and nodded.

 

“A skating rink,” Yuuri said, pointing.

 

“Yes,” Victor agreed, but he was thinking back to the small group of girls waiting for him. He sighed.

 

Victor or the living legend. Neither one wanted to be ungracious.

 

“I’ll be back,” he said. “Don’t go too far, okay?”

 

The girls were thrilled to see him, and that made it easy to smile and pose with them. When they let him go, Victor had considerably more lipstick marks on his cheeks than he’d like, but he felt lighter.

 

Yuuri was waiting for him beside Zero Kilometer with a soft look in his eyes. “That was kind.”

 

“They were cold,” Victor shrugged. “I didn’t want them to be disappointed.”

 

“You’re kind,” Yuuri said, more urgently, like he wanted Victor to understand something. “You’re-”

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said. “It’s okay.”

 

“Is it?” Yuuri turned and walked away, heading for a shadowed section of wall. Victor followed, as closely as he would if Yuuri had him on a lead.

 

Yuuri’s boldness deserted him nearly as soon as they’d reached the wall. His shoulders slumped, and his chin dipped.

 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked curiously. “What’s going on?”

 

“The other Victor said something earlier,” Yuuri said, and Victor tensed, waiting for the hammer to fall. “I don’t actually know you, and you don’t know me.”

 

“That’s true,” Victor said, trying to sound neutral. “But you want to, don’t you?”

 

His voice had betrayed him, and from the way Yuuri looked up, he knew it too. Victor wanted to know him. He wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything.

 

Yuuri was quiet for a long moment, but his expression said it all, gentle and longing, fierce and possessive.

 

He wanted it too, and something in Victor loosened at that. He blinked, once and again, and Yuuri took a hesitant step forward.

 

“Victor,” he said, his hand reaching towards Victor’s face but faltering midway.

 

They were at an impasse for a moment, neither one knowing what to do, and then Yuuri wrapped his arms around him, tucking himself in close. Victor sighed and relaxed into it, letting his arms come up around Yuuri’s waist and his head drop to his shoulder.

 

He was warm against Victor, his scarf scratchy against Victor’s cheek, and he pressed himself closer when Victor pulled.

 

It was perfect, and Victor didn’t feel the urge to smile at all.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Victor and Victor talk it out. Yuuri shows off. Yurio is ready for this day to be over.


	7. Vitya's Art Skills, Let Him Show You Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Victor talk it out. Yuuri shows off (for some meaning of the word). Yurio is ready for this day to be over.

 

***

 

 

When Victor arrived back at the hotel room, the room was dark, the sun long gone, but he could just see the other Victor, asleep on the short sofa. His knees were hooked over one arm and his head on the other, one hand clutching a thick sketchbook to his chest and the other dangling loose, fingers brushing against the floor.

 

Other than his other self’s regular breathing, the room was silent. He didn’t know where Yuri was, but that was okay. Victor wasn’t sure he wanted to face him.

 

He turned on the bedroom light and left the door open, just so there was enough light to see by but not so it was bright enough that the other Victor would wake up. When it was a little brighter, he recognized that it was one of his own sketchbooks that his other self was cradling, and he gently slid it out.

 

Victor had to flip back through several pages of sketches, diagrams, and choreography before he got to the page where the other Victor had started. Looking at it from the start, it was obviously the program he’d skated earlier, the one that his Yuuri had used for his free skate, and the affection and care that had gone into it were clear.

 

He paged through it curiously, taking a seat. If he’d needed more proof that the other Victor was along another path in life, he had it. This was a program that he could build, given time, but it was structured to play to the strengths of someone completely different from him, with more staying power but fewer quads. Choreographing for Yuri had been a matter of reaching back into his own past. Choreographing for Yuuri had demanded that his other self know Yuuri’s skating as deeply as he knew his own.

 

 

_“Victor,” Yuuri said, stepping back from the hug. “Can I tell you something?”_

_“Of course,” Victor replied._

_“You know that I had a difficult season last year.” Yuuri paused, waiting for Victor to nod. “When I went home, I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue as a competitive skater.”_

_“What changed your mind?” Victor asked. In the other world, it had been Victor, hadn’t it? He hadn’t thought of what that meant for this Yuuri._

_“It was you,” he said simply, but he looked shocked at his own boldness._

_“It was? How?”_

_“All my life, I was trying to skate like you. You’ve been my idol.” Yuuri froze, and Victor couldn’t help the surge of fondness. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s probably the last thing you want to hear.”_

_“It’s fine,” Victor said, and it was, somehow._

_“I was at a crossroads, and then you announced that you were retiring. There I was in Japan, no coach, no programs, out of shape, and I had one last chance. My theme of longing is about you. That’s what I didn’t want to say earlier.”_

 

 

The other Victor woke up slowly, blinking the sleep away and tilting his face towards Victor, grunting as he moved from his position. “I’m still here,” he mumbled dozily.

 

“You are,” Victor agreed, his eyes tracking the other Victor’s bangs as they swept across his eyes. “Are you ready to work on fixing that?”

 

“I thought you were,” his other self said grumpily, rubbing a hand up his cheek and through his hair.

 

“Did…I don’t understand,” Victor said. “You said skating was the key.”

 

“Think, Victor,” the other Victor said, swinging his legs around to sit up. “If it was, would I have left that rink? Ever? I want to help you, but Yuuri needs me a lot more than you do.”

 

He didn’t want to talk about Yuuri just then. “If it isn’t skating, then what?”

 

“Victor.” His other self looked up at him through his eyelashes, the dim light shadowing his face. “You’re the one keeping me here.”

 

“I’m not,” Victor denied bluntly, too surprised to muster a real defense, and unsure of how he could argue in the face of his other self’s certainty regardless.

 

“I don’t think you’re trying to,” his other self clarified in a way that made nothing clearer, “but I’m sure that you are. Why else would I be here, if not for you?”

 

“I’m not- listen to what you’re saying,” Victor said, leaning back and away from the other Victor’s intense stare. “Why would I be keeping you here? How could I be? It doesn’t even make sense.”

 

“You’re talking to yourself,” the other Victor said implacably. “Nothing about this makes sense. It’s impossible. But here we are.”

 

“If that’s the argument, I could just as easily say that you brought yourself here. What do you mean?”

 

“I opened the path between our worlds by skating at that rink, even if it wasn’t all the way. I was pulled here when you were skating there this morning. There has to be a connection, you agree with that, right?”

 

Victor had put that together, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

 

The other Victor pressed on. “What were you actually doing this morning? I know you weren’t working out flaws in your free skate.”

 

Trying to fix it. Giving up. Reaching back, trying to figure out his path forward.

 

Which path forward?

 

 

_“Yuuri,” he said, the thought striking him. “Tell me about Japan.”_

_Caught up in his own confession, Yuuri just blinked uncertainly. “Eh, Japan?”_

_“The other Victor likes it there, don’t you think? What would I like about it?”_

_Yuuri tipped his head thoughtfully. “The onsen?” he suggested finally. “My family runs an inn with a natural hot spring. It’s very relaxing after practice. My mother is a very good cook,” he added after a pause, with more certainty. “You could try my favourite foods. And I think you would like the scenery as well. In the spring, the cherry blossoms fill the air, though the snow was late this year and I missed them.” He stalled out, looking up at Victor. “Sorry, I’m not very good at describing it.”_

_“No,” Victor said. “I think you did perfectly.”_

 

 

“Skating my old routines,” Victor finally admitted, and then it all ran out. “I remember how they’re supposed to feel, but I keep falling short.”

 

“And they’re harder than they used to be, right?” His other self had dropped all forcefulness, now that he’s gotten the honesty he wanted, and slipped back into genuine empathy.

 

This was someone who’d been through the same thing. Victor nodded.

 

“I think that whatever’s happened is a response to us- to you and me,” the other Victor said. “Not just the skating, or I’d be home now, but our emotions, our state of mind. Just before we saw my Yuuri earlier, do you want to know what I felt?”

 

Victor knew the answer to this one. “Love.”

 

“Yes,” his other self agreed. “But also fear that it wouldn’t work, that I’d be trapped here, that Yuuri would be scared. That I’d found love only to be ripped away from it.” He took a deep breath. “Loneliness, loss, fear. It was the same for you, right?”

 

“I was frustrated,” Victor said carefully. “Nothing was working.”

 

“And the rest of it?” the other Victor prompted, not letting him avoid it. “I know you’re lonely. I know how I felt. Don’t you feel the same? Trapped and choked by expectations?”

 

“How did you do it?” Victor asked, dodging the question again. They both knew the answer. “How did you just leave?”

 

“Someone made a very convincing argument in favour,” the other Victor said, and now he was smiling fondly at him. “I wonder if Yuuri would show you it.”

 

There was a stirring in the pit of his stomach, nervous and deep, at the remembrance of Yuuri’s face as he’d turned away from him. “I don’t know if he will.”

 

 

_“You’ve gone quiet,” Victor said, leading the way down Red Square to St. Basil's Cathedral, where Phichit was waiting for them._

_“Sorry,” Yuuri said. “I was just thinking.”_

_“Oh?” Victor asked. “What about?”_

_“I was going to retire at the end of this season,” Yuuri said._

_“What?” Victor said, a shock of disappointment surging through him. “Why?”_

_Yuuri shrugged and hesitated, visibly changing what he was about to say. “Phichit-kun wants to go back to Thailand,” he said. “If I retired, Celestino could go with him. And, well-”_

_He ran out of words, and Victor couldn’t fill in the gap. Hadn’t it been obvious to Yuuri as well? Hadn’t he been skirting around asking Victor to be his coach?_

_“I don’t understand,” he said._

_“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Yuuri said. “I miss home.”_

_“Why does that mean you have to retire?” Victor pressed. “You’re so young, still. You have so much promise.”_

_Yuuri avoided eye contact, and Victor frowned, trying to add up the pieces. Yuuri’s behaviour as he’d tried to ask Victor that question at the rink and been interrupted. The way he’d watched Victor skate. Before that, his acceptance that there were two Victors, and how willing he’d been to help despite being a near-stranger and a competitor._

_The look he had given him before hugging him._

_Doubt rose in his chest._

_“Have you changed your mind?” Victor asked. “You don’t seem certain.”_

_“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Yuuri said, blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Sorry for what?” Victor asked, reaching out for and missing Yuuri’s coat sleeve as he moved away. Disappointment replaced doubt. “Yuuri?”_

_“I’m just sorry,” Yuuri said, biting his lower lip. “We should go.”_

 

***

 

***

 

***

 

Victor sat on the chilly bench, scrolling through his other self’s phone, who had by the time they’d reached the rink at least stopped asking for it back.

 

“What are we waiting for?” the other Victor asked finally. “I thought that you had a plan?”

 

“Yuuri was my plan,” Victor said lightly. “Don’t give up on him.”

 

“It’s not his fault that this is too strange a situation for him,” the other Victor said with some heat. “Look at it from his perspective.”

 

“Look at you,” Victor said admiringly. “I’m not even attacking him, but you already want to defend him?” He winked, and the other Victor frowned a little in realization. “I know Yuuri,” he said. “Trust him.”

 

He checked the phone again. Yurio still had only replied once and even that was just a series of rude emoji.

 

“I thought of something we could try,” his other self suggested. “While we wait for whatever you’re waiting for.”

 

“What’s that?” Victor slid the phone back into his jacket pocket. Yurio would come through. He was like a force of nature when he was motivated, and Victor knew that Yurio wanted him gone, which Victor couldn’t hold against him. After all, he felt the same way.

 

“If I’m what’s keeping you here, maybe I can let you go?” The other Victor looked out onto the dimly lit ice.

 

It had taken all of his charm and then some to get back in for the third time in a day, still requesting privacy. It was late in the evening now, which meant it was in the very early hours of the morning in Hasetsu, six hours ahead and a world away. Victor hoped that his Yuuri had gone home, but somehow he doubted it.

 

He’d been gone less than a day, but it seemed like forever.

 

“How do you mean?” Victor asked.

 

“I’m not sure how,” his other self admitted. “But come on.” He rose from the bench, shaking out his pants so the cuffs fell evenly over his skates. “Can you show me what I’m missing?”

 

They took to the ice, skating in easy circles. Victor followed the other Victor’s lead, letting the frustration spin out of him with each scrape of his blades on the ice.

 

If he just closed his eyes, he could pretend it was Yuuri beside him. But it wasn’t, and he didn’t.

 

It still felt like home, though.

 

He eyed his other self, who wasn’t at all relaxed. His shoulders were tight underneath his shirt, and his face was unreadable.

 

Victor wasn’t sure himself what to think anymore. He’d sent off this world’s version of himself with Yuuri, expecting that they would figure out what they needed and act on it. Victor had thought that when the other Victor knew what he wanted, that he would blink and find himself back home. But his other self apparently didn’t know what he was looking for, or didn’t believe he could have it.

 

Maybe he was trying to force too much, too fast, and it was going to come crashing down.

 

Maybe he should have just got Yuuri drunk and turned him loose.

 

Or maybe Victor was wrong about everything and they still had no way to get him home, but he refused to dwell on that.

 

He thought back to Yuuri’s nod when he’d asked him if he wanted to know Victor. It had been firm, certain, but Yuuri didn’t always stay firm and certain. Given half a chance, he’d panic, and Victor suspected he had. Hoped he had, given that the alternative was that he wasn’t interested after all.

 

With his Yuuri, Victor would’ve pressed, would’ve tried to force him out. The other  Victor had run into Yuuri’s curious and infuriating habit of blowing hot and cold, and the cold had stopped him dead.

 

Maybe Victor was there to bridge the gap between them, like he’d been trying to do. Maybe it had nothing to do with him and his other self really did need to just undo what he’d done that morning. Anything was worth trying.

 

“Here,” his other self said, moving into the middle of the ice. He was intent and focused, but with a hint of nerves. “This is what I started with.”

 

He moved into a simple step sequence that took Victor a moment to places, until the other Victor dug in for a triple toe and he was taken back over a decade to his first Junior Worlds.

 

“That’s a big jump for such a young skater,” he said teasingly as the other Victor glided past him, unable to resist the memory of one of his first sponsors saying the same.

 

“I can’t even remember how I answered that,” his other self said.

 

“With a smile,” Victor said. “It worked, and so we kept doing it.” He pushed into the same sequence, adding a flourish after the jump. “Here, my turn.”

 

Victor twirled into a delicate and flirty series of moves, spinning and twisting like his hair was still as long as it had been, flowing out behind him. Yuuri might have taken the costume, but the program was still all Victor’s.

 

The other Victor copied him, joining in before Victor was more than a few seconds in. For a moment, they were in sync, moving through their old program together. “Our last Junior World’s,” his other self said, coming to a stop.

 

“Yes,” Victor said, “That was a fun year, remember? Georgi was so jealous that I got to go to America and he didn’t.”

 

“He’d decided he was in love with that American girl, right? He was devastated that he didn’t get to go and meet her.” The other Victor half-smiled at the memory. “I’d forgotten.”

 

“What else?” Victor asked.

 

His other self started to move, and Victor recognized their Senior debut short program. He joined in, careful to leave enough room between them for the spins.

 

“This used to be different,” the other Victor said, breaking form to look over his shoulder at Victor. “Remember how it used to feel?”

 

Victor dropped out of his jump approach, looping around behind the other Victor. “Nothing stays the same forever,” he said when the other Victor had landed. “You were sixteen.”

 

“Maybe that’s the biggest problem,” his other self said, switching directions to glide backwards and away from Victor. “I’m twenty-seven, but I’m still chasing what I thought I should be at sixteen.”

 

“I’ve never thought of it like that,” Victor said. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe you’re thinking too much about everything.” He poked a finger into his other self’s temple as he passed him, turning into one of his more fun gala programs.

 

“Yakov hated this one,” the other Victor observed, but he followed along anyway.

 

“Well, if anyone gets to regret putting a ring on it, I guess it’s Yakov,” Victor said.

 

Victor had competed with dozens of programs, spending late nights planning, dealing with composers, with costume designers, with Yakov’s ideas for him, and then he’d practiced and perfected them until he remembered them down to the bone. He let his other self take the lead, following along as they swept through his career until they were both breathing hard.

 

“It’s no good,” the other Victor said eventually, sweeping his sweaty bangs off his forehead. “You’re right. Nothing stays the same.” He looked at Victor, mouth twisted into a frown. “I’d really hoped that would work. I’m sorry.”

 

“But it was fun, right?” Victor asked. “It’s okay that it didn’t work. It’s not your fault.”

 

The other Victor just raised an eyebrow, an unspoken reminder that they both knew he’d been the one to bring Victor into his world, however unintentionally. “Is all that’s left Yuuri?”

 

“And you. I sent Yurio to find him before we left, so they should be here soon.” Victor came a little closer, just enough that he was within arm’s reach. “I can’t tell you what to do, Victor. But I think you know what you want, don’t you?”

 

His other self nodded, but there was still doubt in his face.

 

“I know,” Victor said, letting himself be petulant. “He’s so difficult, right? One moment he’s flirting, and the next he’s pushing you away.”

 

“What if it’s a mistake?” the other Victor asked. “What if we can’t get to where you are?”

 

“You won’t,” Victor said simply, taken aback. He’d had a long summer together with his Yuuri, growing together, learning each other, mistakes and chances and determination. “You’re different, how could you end up in the same place?”

 

The other Victor drooped, just a little, and Victor moved in closer, ignoring how strange it was to take his own chin in hand to tip it up and look himself in the eye. “Why is that a bad thing? Isn’t that half the fun? You’re not sure and neither is he. Wouldn’t you like to be uncertain together, instead of knowing what comes next?”

 

Skating wasn’t fun when you were trapped at the top. It was predictable, boring after so many years. Yuuri was anything but.

 

The other Victor leaned back and away with a thoughtful expression, and Victor let his hand drop.

 

Moments later, the locker room door banged open and Yurio stormed through, dragging Yuuri by the wrist despite Yuuri being strong enough to prevent it if he really wanted. “I brought him,” he announced unnecessarily.

 

“Thanks Yurio,” Victor said, skating to the edge of the rink closest to them. “I knew I could count on you.”

 

“That had better be the last time I end up chasing this loser around a hotel,” Yurio said, crossing his arms.

 

“If Yuuri starts answering his phone when I call it, it will be.” Victor took a moment to rethink his position, and added, “Not that I’ll be calling it.”

 

“Yura,” the other Victor said, skating to the barrier beside Victor and beckoning. “Come here.”

 

Yurio suspiciously edged closer, and as soon as he was within reach the other Victor reached out and pulled him close as he squawked indignantly, wrapping him up in a tight hug that muffled his immediate outrage. “Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been very patient with me.”

 

Victor looked to Yuuri, still standing well back of the barrier, and still wearing his shoes instead of skates, though he did have a bag slung over his shoulder. “Yuuri.” There was a flash of alarm in his eyes, the familiar sign that Yuuri was locking himself up in his own head. “Come over here.” Yuuri hesitated, and Victor said, “I promise I won’t hug you.”

 

He skated along the boards until he could whisper without being overheard by the other Victor or by Yurio, and Yuuri followed him, his face pale like he was going to his executioner.

 

“Sorry,” Victor said, unable to withstand any version of Yuuri looking at him like that. “I guess I lied,” and then he dragged Yuuri in, nearly pulling him over the boards as he held him closely, one hand across the small of his back and his other forearm pressed along the line of his spine so he could cradle the back of his head in his hand. “It’s going to be okay, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri didn’t struggle, but he didn’t return the hug, either. After a moment, though, Victor heard an indistinct sniffle. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, barely intelligible. “I can’t do it.”

 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor sighed out, patting his hand down his back. “What can’t you do?”

 

“I can’t be one more person who only wants Victor for what he can do for me.”

 

Victor froze. “Yuuri.” His voice was lower than he meant, more of an edge than he intended, but of all the things holding Yuuri back, that was not what he’d expected. “I’ve never thought that about you.”

 

“I’d be taking advantage,” Yuuri insisted, breathless and choked. “What makes me different from anyone else?”

 

“ _Everything._ ” Victor whispered it, but the effect on Yuuri was remarkable. “If you’re taking advantage, so did I. My Yuuri gave me so much that I still can’t understand it fully.” Victor stole a sidelong glance at the other Victor, watching them intently. “He wants this, hasn’t he told you that? Didn’t you see him earlier, skating your program? Can’t you put your trust in that?”

 

Yuuri pulled away, and Victor let him go. His eyes were damp, but his face was settled.

 

“Yuuri,” he said. “Victor skated your program. Don’t you think it’s time you answered him?”

 

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Yuuri shows off, but skating skill instead of angsting skill. Back in Hasetsu, Yuuri's had a rough night.
> 
> Expect it by the middle of next week :)


	8. He Was Born Ready, Victor, You Should See His Bedroom

 

***

 

Victor slipped out of his other self’s spare skates and back into his sneakers, keeping one eye on Yuuri, on the locker room bench nearby and lacing up his skates more slowly than Victor had ever seen him.

 

Yuuri hadn’t said anything after Victor had challenged him, but he’d looked Victor in the eye for just too long, studying him until he felt laid open and bare. Victor had followed when he’d abruptly turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the other Victor and Yurio alone, and unsure of what Yuuri was going to do.

 

It had been a relief when he’d started changing into his skates instead of just leaving the rink entirely, but he still hadn’t spoken, and Victor’s confidence that he knew what would send him home was starting to sour to doubt.

 

“Did I tell you why I decided to coach my Yuuri?” Victor asked, breaking the silence. Yuuri might still be unclear on what Victor was asking of him, or why he was asking it.

 

“Earlier, yes,” Yuuri said quietly, still bent over his skates. “A video of me skating for Yuuko that doesn’t exist here.”

 

“He asked me to, at the banquet after the Sochi Grand Prix Final,” Victor said, watching the way Yuuri drew in on himself, his face still hidden by how deeply he’d bent, and no, that wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

 

“He did?” Yuuri choked out.

 

“I don’t mean it the way you’re hearing it,” Victor said quickly. “Yuuri, all I mean is that he’s the person who changed my perspective on life, and I thought it would help you to know how much I valued that.”

 

“He _is_ braver than me,” Yuuri said bitterly. “Is that the difference between us?”

 

“No,” Victor said with conviction.

 

“I tried to ask, earlier,” Yuuri said, and why wouldn’t he look up? “He wanted me to ask, and even knowing that, and knowing that in another world you’d dropped everything to do it, I still couldn’t say it, but your Yuuri did it that day? After the performance he gave?”

 

“Yeah,” Victor said. “But: he asked me that when he’d had too much to drink. And then he disappeared, and I didn’t hear anything from him until months later when a video that he’d never meant anyone to see was posted online. Does that sound a little more like the Yuuri you know?”

 

“Oh,” he said softly, letting his laces drop so he could wrap his hands around his own ankles in a nervous gesture. “Yes.”

 

“The way he skated my program opened up a world of possibilities for me, Yuuri,” Victor said, willing him to listen. “But now I’m here, and I need to go back.”

 

And now Yuuri was looking at him, confusion in his eyes as he sat up. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You skated, and it almost worked, didn’t it? Why are you so focused on me?”

 

“Because you’re the only idea that I have left,” Victor said honestly. “I think that Victor brought me here this morning with the emotions he felt while he skates. You’re- I mean, my Yuuri is the person who changed those feelings for me, and I think that you can do the same for him.”

 

“You said skating was the key,” Yuuri said, after a long moment of thought, accusation in his eyes.

 

Victor blinked. “You two really are an excellent match.”

 

Yuuri was only half-listening, leaning down again to fiddle with his laces like it wasn’t an obvious delaying tactic.

 

“So then, you want me to skate your free program from last year, like I did for Yuuko?” he said it blithely, but his fingers were shaking as he tied his skates.

 

“Do you still know it?” Victor asked belatedly. “You probably haven’t skated it since then, but-”

 

“I know it,” Yuuri said, and Victor could hear it as nerves tightened his voice. “I can do it,” he added, without fire.

 

“I know you can,” Victor said cautiously, because he thought he recognized that tone.

 

When Yuuri stood up, smoothing down his jacket and refusing to meet Victor’s eyes, he knew what he’d heard.

 

Sheer, utter panic.

 

Stupid, stupid. This wasn’t his Yuuri, used to hearing absurd requests from Victor and striving to fulfill them. This wasn’t even his Yuuri of seven months before, timid around him and still shocked that Victor was there at all, but who had Victor’s commitment to him to fall back on.

 

This was a Yuuri who was still afraid to disappoint, who had been thrown into a situation that shouldn’t exist, who Victor had just told that he was his last hope.

 

It was still Yuuri, and Yuuri had always surprised him by how much weight he could carry, but all Victor could see was him buckling under it.

 

“You don’t have to,” he said without thinking.

 

Yuuri finally looked at him, and at least his face was calm even if his body language was screaming. “Of course I do,” he said. “I told you I would help.”

 

“Yuuri-” Victor started and stopped, having nothing left to say.

 

“I don’t think it will happen the way you want,” Yuuri said thoughtfully, setting his glasses on the bench behind him. “But I think that you can trust Victor to fix this.”

 

***

 

***

 

***

 

“How long does it take to put skates on?” Yuri complained, tipping his head back against the rink wall. He’d sat on the floor and started texting immediately after Yuuri had led the other Victor back to the dressing room after what had looked like an intense hug and whispered conversation.

 

“Have a little sympathy, Yura,” Victor said, absently tracing his blades across the ice as he leaned on the wall. “We’re all under a lot of stress.”

 

“You’re lucky that I found Katsuki at all,” Yuri said grumpily. “Why’d you even let him leave in the first place if you needed him to skate?”

 

“Leave it alone,” Victor said.

 

Yuri grunted, but fell quiet. “You’re leaving,” he said, still texting. “Right?”

 

“I think so,” Victor admitted. “Are you angry?” It was Yuri, it was a long shot if he wasn’t, but-

 

“No,” Yuri said, burying his face in his phone. “Now shut up unless you want me to be.”

 

Victor let it go and considered the dressing room door. They had been in there for long enough to put on and take off skates three times over, maybe he should go check on them, but they hadn’t really looked like they needed a third person in whatever conversation they’d had.

 

Yuuri hadn’t flinched away when the other Victor had reached for him, maybe he felt safer with him, less threatened by someone who was more confident in dealing with him. But then, even when Yuuri had turned away from him, it had seemed more like he was angry with himself than Victor.

 

When they finally came out of the room, the other Victor had taken off his skates. Without them, he was near the same height as Yuuri, who looked…terrible.

 

What had they been talking about? His face was pale, and his mouth was stretched into a frown, but his eyes looked sad. Victor watched him until he was pulling off his skate guard and stepping onto the ice beside him, his other self leaning against the boards near where Yuri was sitting.

 

“Victor wants me to show you something,” Yuuri said to him, a tiny catch in his voice, looking even more stressed up close. “I’ll do my best. Please watch.”

 

Victor obeyed, turning with him as he skated away.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Yurio asked from behind him. “He looks awful.”

 

“He’s fine,” the other Victor said. “He can do this.”

 

Victor slid a little away from them, further onto the ice.

 

“Seriously, what did you say?” Yurio insisted. “I think he might die right now.”

 

Yuuri flinched, Yurio’s voice carrying out to him easily.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

That got Yuuri turning around to look Victor in the eye, and Victor nodded at him. Some of the tension drained out of him, and he looked almost normal as he drew to a stop in the centre of the rink.

 

Victor recognized his Stay Close to Me program in the first seconds of Yuuri moving, and found himself standing taller with his shoulders squared, his eyes on Yuuri as he lifted his arms and turned out of his starting position.

 

Despite Yuuri’s nerves, Victor could see it. Even in the first movements it was clear that he loved the routine and saw through to the heart of it.

 

Yuuri dropped into a lunge, the first movement in the lead up to the quad Lutz, and twirled out, gaining speed and launching himself.

 

He wouldn’t try for the quad, but the triple Lutz would be there.

 

He found himself holding his breath anyway as Yuuri launched, one, two, three rotations, and landed cleanly. Victor forced his lungs to release as Yuuri swept through the landing.

 

“Good,” he heard the other Victor whisper behind him. “You can do this.”

 

“You sound like you’re worried, Vitya,” Yurio needled, just barely registering under Victor’s focus on Yuuri. “I thought you believed in him.”

 

The other Victor didn’t reply, probably because Yuuri had just propelled himself up into a triple flip and nearly missed the landing. Victor’s mouth started to feel dry, thinking back to the assessment he’d made that morning of Yuuri’s skating.

 

He was good. He was a beautiful performer. But Victor hadn’t forgotten about the inconsistency, and now, having seen him in person, the reasons were becoming more clear. Many skaters struggled with their mental resilience.

 

Yuuri had been shaken even before he’d started the skate. Victor had seen what that could lead to in his videos from last year- one mistake could easily snowball into a bigger one.

 

“What’s he doing?” Yurio said.

 

Yuuri continued into the triple axel, saving the landing only at the last second, shaking his head slightly like he was trying to clear it.

 

Victor watched Yuuri moved through the step and spins sequence with the beauty that was inherent in his style, even if he had less flow than Victor knew he could have. He’d managed to pull himself back together, still just a little too bound up still in the cloud of his own making, but as Yuuri showed him his refusal to fail, Victor felt his heart respond.

 

There it was.

 

And then Yuuri came out of the sit spin, his timing perfect, and Victor caught his first solid look at the expression on his face.

 

Determination, but only a thin mask, painted over the face of someone teetering at the edge of a precipice.

 

The next element was the quad Salchow, and Victor knew that he wouldn’t downgrade it like he had the Lutz and flip.

 

He also knew as soon as he left the ice that it had gone wrong, that Yuuri had pushed too hard into the rotation and lost control, thrown himself off-balance.

 

The rotations were there, the landing was not. His toepick snagged, spraying ice shards up into the air, and he fell hard, shielding his face with his arm. Yuuri’s momentum bounced him off the ice once, solidly enough that Victor was already kicking into a fast skate towards him as he pulled his legs back under himself.

 

Yuuri popped back up with a wince and a stumble, just as Victor stopped ungracefully beside him to steady him under his elbow. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking Yuuri up and down.

 

Brushing along his jawline with a gloved hand and checking it for blood, Yuuri shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, and the worry from earlier was gone, replaced by resignation.

 

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Victor turned to see the other Victor and Yurio waiting at the nearest gate. The other Victor looked shocked, with a creeping guilt that Victor recognized, and it was a matter of a single movement to wave them off.

 

Yuuri was upright, he was a competitive skater who had to have taken bad falls before, and whatever was going on his head would only get worse with more people crowding around him.

 

“Let’s stop for a minute,” Victor said, in a light tone, but one that he expected Yuuri would recognize as an imperative.

 

“I can finish,” Yuuri said, but his defensive body language and the red mark spreading down one side of his jaw from the impact with the ice claimed otherwise. Nonetheless, Victor was pleased by the show of tenacity. Even if he was in the middle of a mental failure of a performance, he was still trying to hold himself to the standard he wanted to have.

 

Victor could work with that, just like he could work with the way he was so eager to please and the risks he took. Even with the personal element out of it, this was a skater that he wanted to work with.

 

With the personal element accounted for, this was a person he needed be with.

 

“Just a minute,” Victor said. “What happened there?” He asked the question easily, but Yuuri drew his shoulders back like it was the opening volley of a firing squad, the red of his face burning red with shame to match his jaw.

 

That wasn’t quite the reaction he’d been looking for, but they could get better.

 

“Bad entry,” Yuuri mumbled, craning his neck to look away into empty space.

 

Victor moved around him, back into his line of sight. “That happened at the NHK cup, too, though I’ll admit not as spectacularly. It’s a recurring problem for you, right?”

 

He nodded, quick and still embarrassed.

 

“Don’t be upset,” Victor said, trying to get his focus moving away from the fall. “Falls happen to everyone. It happened to me, earlier, you saw it.”

 

Yuuri turned his head away again, and this time Victor laid a hand on the uninjured side of his face, tipping him back with firm pressure until he was looking at Victor again, the shame on his face giving way to surprise.

 

“Yuuri,” he said, in as steady a tone as he had. “We’ll work it out. There’s lots of time.”

 

“There isn’t,” Yuuri said, misinterpreting. “Victor can’t stay here.”

 

His other self had told Yuuri to skate Victor’s own program for him, and that it would send him home. The more he thought about it, the more Victor thought that it was a reasonable guess, but it was clearly one that hadn’t worked out. Yuuri wasn’t the one who’d brought Victor across worlds, after all. He wasn’t likely to be the one to send him back.

 

“I think I know how we can send him back. Don’t worry about that right now. I meant,” and Victor inhaled, nervous despite himself, “I meant that _we_ had lots of time. You and me.”

 

Yuuri’s brow furrowed with incomprehension, and Victor lifted a brow meaningfully at him. “Oh!” he said, and then his hands were on Victor’s wrist, pulling his hand down from where he’d left it on Yuuri’s  jaw, and his eyes were huge, staring up at Victor and shining like stars. “You’re not joking?”

 

“Of course not,” Victor said. “You have to trust your coach, Yuuri.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri said again, this time barely squeaking it out. If it weren’t for the way that Yuuri was staring at him like he was a ray of sunshine on a dark day, Victor would almost wonder if he was more upset than happy at Victor’s offer.

 

“You should be winning, not just scraping by,” Victor said. “We’ll change that.”

 

“Even after that?” Yuuri whispered, making a general gesture to the rink around them.

 

“Especially after that!” Victor said firmly, and Yuuri abruptly let go of his wrist and buried his face in his hands. “There wouldn’t be much point if you didn’t have any room to improve.” He could just barely see Yuuri’s eyes between his fingertips, his nose and mouth crushed under his palms, and he realized with a start that they were full of unshed tears. “Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri made a sound that was half a gasp and half a sob, and Victor abruptly had an armful, instinctively catching him as he threw himself at Victor. “I thought I’d ruined it,” he forced out.

 

“That’s a yes, right?” Victor asked, adjusting his grip around Yuuri’s waist. He felt light-headed, almost, a bright certainty that he was making the right decision, and Yuuri confirmed that for him by nodding quickly, his cheek rubbing against Victor’s hair with every movement.

 

“Hey!” Yuri’s sharp yell cut through across the rink, and Victor looked over to see him leaning both elbows on the wall with a scowl on his face. The other Victor still stood beside him, grinning in a ridiculous way that Victor suspected was mirrored on his own face. “Remember us? The other people in the room?”

 

Victor laughed and carefully set Yuuri back onto his skates as he tried to compose himself. “Let’s go say goodbye to Victor,” he said, skating towards his other self.

 

“Wow, was I ever wrong,” the other Victor said cheerfully when they’d reached him, and then switched to a solicitous tone to add, “Sorry Yuuri. Did you hurt yourself?”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Yuuri said.

 

“Make sure you ice that jaw,” the other Victor said. “It looks like it’s going to bruise for sure.”

 

“Victor,” Victor said firmly, waiting until he looked at him. “Sorry about all this. I’m sure it wasn’t in your plans for today.”

 

“I’ve had worse days,” the other Victor said, his smile turning softer. “Does this mean that you’re finally sending me home?”

 

“We are,” he said, tipping his head towards Yuuri. “You were almost right, but I think I was closer earlier. I just needed a different partner.”

 

“Oh!” the other Victor said, grinning broadly again. “I’m looking forward to it. Just one last thing.” He looked down at Yuri and poked a finger into his shoulder. “You’d better remember what I said.”

 

“What, that you’re the best skater in every world?” Yuri said, trying to sound bored and failing.

 

“I only said that to make you mad,” the other Victor admitted blithely. “The other thing, Yurio. You know the one.”

 

Yuri did know what he meant, even if Victor didn’t, judging by the way he ducked away and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath despite looking vaguely pleased.

 

“Okay!” the other Victor said. “I’d like to go home, please, Victor. You’re sure about this now?”

 

He was more certain than he’d ever been. “Absolutely,” he said, pushing off backwards. “Come on Yuuri,” he said, beckoning him. “Let’s end this.”

 

“Um, how exactly?” Yuuri asked, following him anyway.

 

“I thought it was skating, and Victor thought it was because of how I felt,” Victor explained. “It has to be both. I’d like you to finish the program, but with me, this time.”

 

Yuuri nodded without hesitation, and Victor felt a little tug in his chest at the display of trust.

 

“We’ll pick up right before the quad Sal,” he said. “We’ve both fallen out of Salchow’s today. Yura will be insufferable if we don’t make up for it.”

 

Yuuri nodded again, but he swallowed hard.

 

“Trust your coach, Yuuri,” Victor said, running a gentle hand down his back, just grazing his fingertips against the hem of his jacket and ignoring the exaggerated cough Yuri made from beside them. “Keep square, control your speed, and stay with me.”

 

“I will,” Yuuri said simply.

 

“From the first step out of the sit spin,” Victor instructed, taking up a ready position.

 

When Yuuri mirrored him, a safe distance away, Victor started. He hadn’t skated this program since the end of the previous season, but it was still fresh in his mind, especially after watching Yuuri through the first part.

 

He made the approach for the quad Salchow, focusing on the jump and listening to Yuuri beside him, trusting that he would make it.

 

They were a little out of sync on the landing, Yuuri audibly hitting the ice before him, but from the smile he sent Victor’s way, he’d made his rotations. They moved cleanly together, managing to keep in time for the triple Lutz, triple toe combination.

 

Victor drew a little closer to Yuuri, more confident in their steps and synchronization, until they were nearly close enough that Victor could reach out and touch him.

 

He let Yuuri take the lead during the extended step sequence, slipping just behind him so he could watch as he skated. He could hear the music, the triumphant melody ringing in his ears, hours of practice prompting him to move in time to it despite the near silence in the rink.

 

Yuuri moved like it was his own program, flowing through motions in a way that Victor hadn’t imagined when he’d choreographed it and bringing a new depth of emotion that Victor was drowning in as he followed.

 

Victor knew what his other self had wanted him to see, his heart warm and full and trying to beat out of his chest with excitement, and he was more or less expecting it when they landed the triple flip and the world shifted around them.

 

They were back in the Japanese rink from earlier, and Victor redoubled his efforts, retaking the lead from Yuuri and driving through the final step sequence. The music swelled in his ears, and he made eye contact with his other self just as he leapt into the quad toe.

 

The other Victor smiled at him, held his thumb up, and by the time Victor had rotated around again, he was gone.

 

***

 

***

 

***

 

“I don’t even get to see the end?” Victor said to the suddenly empty ice surrounding him.

 

He shifted his weight and realized that he was suddenly back in his own skates and in the clothes he’d put on that morning in Japan, standing in what seemed to be exactly the same place he had been before his little jump through reality.

 

The rink was dim and empty, only half lit, but the silence was peaceful rather than oppressive.

 

“I’m here,” he called. “Yuuri?”

 

No answer, but if it had been getting late in Russia, then it already had to be morning in Japan. Victor patted his pockets and found his phone, pulling to out to check the time.

 

4:04 am, the day after, and about a million missed notificiations, though that was about what he’d expect from a full day away, aside from the eighty or so missed calls from Yuuri.

 

That was the first thing to do, then. Victor hit the call back command, and listened as it rang through to voicemail.

 

 “I’m back,” Victor announced after the beep. “I missed you, I love you, you must be asleep. I’ll come find you.”

 

He hung up. “Okay.”

 

Yuuri might have gone home, rather than wait out the night and hope Victor reappeared. He was irrationally disappointed, but it was four in the morning. It would have been ridiculous for Yuuri to wait for him indefinitely, with no idea of when he’d be back.

 

Victor just wanted to see him, touch him, make sure it was real, that was all.

 

He shook off the weird feeling of loneliness. He’d wanted to come home, and he had, but he couldn’t help but consider the other Victor, the other Yuuri, and Yurio. He’d only spent a day with them, but he hadn’t considered that coming home also meant leaving them. It seemed pretty unlikely that he’d ever see them again, actually.

 

But then he considered the little half smirk Yurio had given him just as the other Victor and Yuuri had landed their quad Sal, the silent gratitude and joy from his other self, the way that Yuuri had already begun to blossom. They would be fine. They would be happy.

 

So would he.

 

Victor’s skate guards weren’t sitting at the gate where he’d left them that morning. Yuuri must have taken them to avoid questions, which made sense, but meant that he had to take a couple careful steps off the ice on his bare blades, resigning himself to sharpening them sooner than he’d planned.

 

He sat on the floor to take his skates off rather than inch all the way to the dressing room, where he could only hope Yuuri had left his shoes.

 

Even through the rubber mat, the floor was chilly and uncomfortable, and Victor tugged his skates off in a hurry, wincing as the cold immediately began to seep into his feet.

 

He double timed it to the dressing room. No one was there to see him, anyway, or at least he thought that until he rounded the corner of the rink and caught a glimpse of a figure slumped against the outside of the boards.

 

Curled up, still half-sitting, glasses askew, hair messy, and fast asleep under Victor’s coat, it seemed that Yuuri had waited for him after all.

 

Victor had dropped his skates and rushed to kneel beside him before he’d realized that he was going to, the helpless joy that Yuuri brought out in him sweeping him in.

 

“Yuuri,” he crooned. “Yuuri, wake up.”

 

The only response he got was a sleepy sigh, and Victor reached out, gently brushing Yuuri’s hair off his face and cradling his cheek in his hand. It was real, it was him, warm and sleepy and perfect.

 

“Come on Yuuri,” he said a little louder. “Don’t you want to see me?”

 

Yuuri stirred at that, slowly blinking his eyes open. “Mm, Victor?” he mumbled, clumsily reaching up for the hand on his face.

 

“Hi,” Victor said, smiling. “I’m back.”

 

“Oh,” Yuuri said, still half asleep. He fumbled with Victor’s jacket, trying to get his other arm out from underneath it, and Victor pulled it aside for him. “Oh!” he said again, suddenly awake and alert, and a pair of strong arms was abruptly crushing the air from his ribcage.

 

Victor embraced Yuuri just as desperately, the worry and stress of the day that he’d been trying to ignore crashing down now that he was sure it was over. He buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, his breath coming out of him in a shuddering gasp.

 

“Victor,” Yuuri sighed his name like it was an answered prayer, and one of his arms slid up Victor’s back to hold him closer.

 

Yuuri was warm and solid underneath him, the strong lines of his frame more than enough to take Victor’s weight, and so he leaned in, letting him take it as relief worked its way through him.

 

“You waited for me,” he said into Yuuri’s shoulder once he felt a little calmer, the overwhelming rush of emotion dying back down to normal levels.

 

“Of course I did,” Yuuri said. “You told me you were coming back, didn’t you? But, Victor,” and he loosened his grip, pulling back far enough that they could see each other’s faces, “Where were you?”

 

“Another world, some kind of parallel universe. I’m still not really sure. But there was a Victor there who needed some help, and I had to show him a better way before I could come home?”

 

“You vanished into thin air to a parallel universe, and it only took you a day to solve the problems of another version of yourself, and then you could come home?” Yuuri looked confused, and Victor leaned in, pressing his lips to his forehead.

 

“It was easy,” Victor said. “It turns out the best version of my life is one with you.”

 

Yuuri made a small, pleased sound, and reeled Victor in by his lapel to kiss him properly.

 

“You have no idea how worried I was,” Yuuri informed him, breaking off the kiss but staying close enough that his lips brushed Victor’s as he spoke.

 

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, and was rewarded with another kiss. “It won’t happen again.”

 

“Better not.” Yuuri levered himself to his feet, pulling Victor up with him and keeping a firm grasp on his hand.

 

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor said, lacing their fingers together. “I almost forgot. I have an idea for your gala performance in Barcelona.”

 

“Do you?” Yuuri said. “You can tell me about it on the way home.” He smiled up at Victor, and Victor returned it. “And maybe a little more about what you were doing in that other world?”

 

“Of course! Yuuri, they were amazing!” Victor said with a sigh. “I’m going to miss them. You’re the best Yuuri, of course, but the other Yuuri was special in his own way. And Yurio! And I think you would’ve really liked the other Victor.”

 

“I know I would have,” Yuuri said fondly, giving his hand a little squeeze.

 

Victor laughed, light and happy, and let Yuuri lead him out of the rink, turning off the last of the lights behind him. “Good luck,” he whispered into the darkness.

 

 

***

***

***

 

Victor finished the program, pushing through the quad toe combination and the final spins, just on the off chance that stopping would unwind everything and drag the other Victor back, just like it had earlier when the other Victor had stopped skating and his Yuuri had disappeared again.

 

When he stopped, the dying seconds of the program dragging out to feel like years, and heard Yuuri stop behind him, Yuri was still standing along at the wall, watching the spot where the other Victor had been.

 

He let out his breath in a sigh of relief, tinged with just a little regret. He’d liked the other Victor, but he’d never have forgiven himself if he’d been trapped in a world completely separate from his own, Victor holding him back just like he’d held himself.

 

“I didn’t expect it to be so sudden,” Yuuri said, and Victor recognized the same mix of emotion in him. “I guess we should just be happy it worked.”

 

“Can we go now?” Yuri asked. “He’s gone, great, I want to leave.”

 

There was something about the way he said it that twigged Victor. “You’re going to miss him, Yura?” he asked. “I could call you Yurio from now on if it’ll make you feel better.”

 

“He was interesting,” Yuri said, in a tone that heavily implied Victor himself was not. “And he actually landed a quad Salchow on the first try today, so at least he’d have been competition.”

 

“If you want competition, wait a few weeks,” Victor said cheerfully. “Yuuri will show you how it’s done.”

 

“At the Grand Prix Final, that I’m not skating in?” Yuri said, his lips quirking dangerously. “Or did you forget?”

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said, laying a thoughtful finger along his mouth, “What would happen if, say, a qualifying skater dropped out of the Grand Prix Final?”

 

“Uh, it depends on how close it is to the competition, but he’d be replaced with the seventh place skater, probably. Why- oh.” Yuuri abruptly saw where Victor was leading the conversation and chose to duck out of it, clamping his lips together and putting some distance between them.

 

“I think I pulled my hamstring yesterday,” Victor pressed on. “Very bad, painful. I can hardly walk. Seems like it might end my season. Who was it that finished seventh, again?”

 

“I don’t want your pity,” Yuri growled, and Victor skated over to him. Yuri held his ground, and Victor looked him in the eye.

 

“I’m leaving, Yura. Whether you accept the spot or not is up to you, but I want you to take it. It’s time to show the world what you can really do.” Yuri’s face softened, just a little, and Victor smiled. “I’ll miss skating with you.”

 

“I changed my mind,” Yuri said. “I am mad at you.”

 

“Of course,” Victor agreed. “If you channel that into your skating, it’ll probably improve your PCS score.”

 

“You know he’s already got a coach, right?” Yuri said, pointing past him to Yuuri. “It’s the middle of the season.”

 

“It’ll all work out,” Victor said, his mind already turning over the possibilities. “Give us a minute? We can leave right after.”

 

Yuri wrinkled his nose at him like he thought Victor was asking for privacy for a different reason as he headed for the dressing room, and Yuuri replaced him, standing beside him at the wall. “You’re going to retire right now? Just like that?” he asked, a hint of shock in his voice as he failed to pretend he hadn’t overheard every word. “I thought you’d wait.”

 

“Why wait?” Victor asked. “Is that what you want?”

 

“No!” Yuuri denied immediately.

 

“Great!” Victor said. “We’ll have to make arrangements with Celestino for a transition period. He knows you better than me, and Yuri’s right that it’s a risk to change coaches mid-season. And you probably don’t want to just abandon them, right?”

 

Yuuri nodded, and Victor continued, thrilled at the road ahead of them. “So we’ll stay in America at least until the Grand Prix Final, and then we could consider relocating to Japan before Nationals. I want to see the hot springs, that was your hometown rink we saw when the other Victor went home, right? Do you think we could train there?” Yuuri was staring at him, his jaw slightly dropped, and Victor forced himself to stop. “Yuuri?”

 

“When did you think of all this?” Yuuri asked, looking more than a little overwhelmed.

 

“Mostly just now,” Victor said. “Why? Don’t you like it?”

 

“It’s, um, it’s just a lot,” Yuuri mumbled, and then blinked, like he couldn’t believe he’d said it.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor said, holding his hand out. Yuuri slowly reached out, setting his palm against Victor’s, and Victor clasped their hands together.

 

His eyes sparkled when he was happy. Victor wanted to see it again and again.

 

“We’re going to have so much fun. Are you ready?”

 

 

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to narie, who was invaluable in plotting, in proofing, and in character voices and who happily helped me work through the ending despite our time zone difference being even screwier than usual through the holidays. I really couldn’t have written this fic without you! <3<3<$
> 
> And a huge, overwhelmed, omg, thank you, to everyone who read, left kudos, and commented. I really appreciate you lovely people who left multiple comments, who had such excellent insight into the characterization and left long comments. I truly appreciate the level of engagement you were willing to make with such a silly plot, and I hope that the ending is satisfying for all of you.
> 
> Happy New Year! I’ll be back, hopefully after talking myself out of a Star Wars fusion and writing something normal :) (genuinely no idea who I’m kidding, even if it never gets to a readable state I’m going to have to write at least a few scenes with the best and also worst Jedi ever to get it out of my head)
> 
> I’m on tumblr as [airgeer](http://airgeer.tumblr.com) if that’s your kind of thing, even though I’m not very posty. :)


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